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THE  LIBRARY  OF  THE 

UNIVERSITY  OF 

NORTH  CAROLINA 


ENDOWED  BY  THE 

DIALECTIC  AND  PHILANTHROPE 

SOCIETIES 


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.N6 
1873 


UNIVERSITY  OF  N.C.  AT  CHAPEL HIUl 


JAN  1  1  78 


00014406127 


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"i    CAN    TWIST    ANY    MAN    ALIVE    AROUND    MY    FINGER  !"— [SEE    P.   256.] 


• 


NO    NAME 


H  IRovel 


BY 


WILKIE    COLLINS 

AtTTHOR  OP 

■'poor  miss  finch"  "antonina"  "the  moonstone"  "basil" 
"the  dead  secret"  "  armadale"  etc. 


ILLUSTRATED 


HARPER    &    BROTHERS   PUBLISHERS 
NEW  YORK  AND  LONDON 


Entered  according  to  Act  of  Congress,  in  the  year  1873,  by 

HARPER    &    BROTHERS, 

In  the  Office  of  the  Librarian  of  Congress,  at  Washington. 


LIBRARY  UNtv.  otf 
NORTH  CAROLINA  ^ 


TO 

FRANCIS    CARR    BEARD, 

(FELLOW  OF  THE  ROYAL  COLLEGE  OF  SURGEONS  OF  ENGLAND), 

IN  REMEMBRANCE  OF  THE  TIME  WHEN 

THE  CLOSING  SCENES  OF  THIS   STORY  WERE  WRITTEN 


PREFACE. 


The  main  purpose  of  this  story  is  to  appeal  to  the  reader's 
interest  in  a  subject  which  has  been  the  theme  of  some  of 
the  greatest  writers,  living  and  dead — but  which  has  never 
been,  and  can  never  be,  exhausted,  because  it  is  a  subject 
eternally  interesting  to  all  mankind.  Here  is  one  more  book 
that  depicts  the  struggle  of  a  human  creature,  under  those 
opposing  influences  of  Good  and  Evil,  which  we  have  all  felt, 
which  we  have  all  known.  It  has  been  my  aim  to  make  the 
character  of  "  Magdalen,"  which  personifies  this  struggle,  a 
pathetic  character  even  in  its  perversity  and  its  error ;  a\id 
I  have  tried  hard  to  attain  this  result  by  the  least  obtrusive 
and  the  least  artificial  of  all  means — by  a  resolute  adherence 
throughout  to  the  truth  as  it  is  in  Nature.  This  design  was 
no  easy  one  to  accomplish ;  and  it  has  been  a  great  encour- 
agement to  me  (during  the  publication  of  my  story  in  its  pe- 
riodical form)  to  know,  on  the  authority  of  many  readers,  that 
the  object  which  I  had  proposed  to  myself,  I  might,  in  some 
degree,  consider  as  an  object  achieved. 

Round  the  central  figure  in  the  narrative  other  characters 
will  be  found  grouped,  in  sharp  contrast — contrast,  for  the 
most  part,  in  which  I  have  endeavored  to  make  the  element 
of  humor  mainly  predominant.  I  have  sought  to  impart  this 
relief  to  the  more  serious  passages  in  the  book,  not  only  be- 
cause I  believed  myself  to  be  justified  in  doing  so  by  the 
laws  of  Art — but  because  experience  has  taught  me  (what 
the  experience  of  my  readers  will  doubtless  confirm)  that 
there  is  no  such  moral  phenomenon  as  unmixed  tragedy  to 
be  found  in  the  world  around  us.  Look  where  we  may,  the 
dark  threads  and  the  light  cross  each  other  perpetually  in 
the  texture  of  human  life. 

To  pass  from  the  Characters  to  the  Story,  it  will  be  seen 


10  PREFACE. 

that  the  narrative  related  in  these  pages  has  been  constru 
ed  on  a  plan  which  differs  from  the  plan  followed  in  my  U, 
novel,  and  in  some  other  of  my  works  published  at  an  earlr 
date.     The  only  Secret  contained  in  this  book  is  reveal 
midway  in  the  first  volume.     From  that  point,  all  the  m<* 
events  of  the  story  are  purposely  foreshadowed,  before  th 
take  place — my  present  design  being  to  rouse  the  reade 
interest  in  following  the  train  of  circumstances  by  whii 
these  foreseen  events  are  brought  about.     In  trying  tl 
new  ground,  I  am  not  turning  my  back  in  doubt  on  t 
ground  which  I  have  passed  over  already.     My  one  obj 
in  following  a  new  course,  is  to  enlarge  the  range  of  n 
studies  in  the  art  of  writing  fiction,  and  to  vary  the  form 
which  I  make  my  appeal  to  the  reader,  as  attractively  a> 
can. 

There  is  no  need  for  me  to  add  more  to  these  few  prefato 
words  than  is  here  written.  What  I  might  otherwise  ha 
wished  to  say  in  this  place,  I  have  endeavored  to  make  t, 
book  itself  say  for  me. 


NO    NAME. 

THE   FIRST  SCENE. 

COMBE-RAVEN,    SOMERSETSHIRE. 


CHAPTER  I. 

The  hands  on  the  hall-clock  pointed  to  half-past  six  in  the  morn- 
ing. The  house  was  a  country  residence  in  West  Somersetshire, 
called  Combe-Raven.  The  day  was  the  fourth  of  March,  and  the 
year  was  eighteen  hundred  and  forty-six. 

No  sounds  but  the  steady  ticking  of  the  clock,  and  the  lumpish 
snoring  of  a  large  dog  stretched  on  a  mat  outside  the  dining-room 
door,  disturbed  the  mysterious  morning  stillness  of  hall  and  stair- 
case. Who  were  the  sleepers  hidden  in  the  upper  regions?  Let 
the  house  reveal  its  own  secrets ;  and,  one  by  one,  as  they  descend 
the  stairs  from  their  beds,  let  the  sleepers  disclose  themselves. 

As  the  clock  pointed  to  a  quarter  to  seven,  the  dog  woke  and 
shook  himself.  After  waiting  in  vain  for  the  footman,  who  was  ac- 
customed to  let  him  out,  the  animal  wandered  restlessly  from  one 
closed  door  to  another  on  the  ground-floor ;  and,  returning  to  his 
mat  in  great  perplexity,  appealed  to  the  sleeping  family,  with  a  long 
and  melancholy  howl. 

Before  the  last  notes  of  the  dog's  remonstrance  had  died  away, 
the  oaken  stairs  in  the  higher  regions  of  the  house  creaked  under 
slowly-descending  footsteps.  In  a  minute  more  the  first  of  the  fe- 
male servants  made  her  appearance,  with  a  dingy  woolen  shawl  over 
her  shoulders — for  the  March  morning  was  bleak ;  and  rheumatism 
and  the  cook  were  old  acquaintances. 

Receiving  the  dog's  first  cordial  advances  with  the  worst  possible 
grace,  the  cook  slowly  opened  the  hall  door  and  let  the  animal  out. 
It  was  a  wild  morning.  Over  a  spacious  lawn,  and  behind  a  black 
plantation  of  firs,  the  rising  sun  rent  its  way  upward  through  piles 
of  ragged  gray  cloud ;  heavy  drops  of  rain  fell  few  and  far  between ; 
the  March  wind  shuddered  round  the  corners  of  the  house,  and  the 
wet  trees  swayed  wearily. 


12  NO    NAME. 

Seven  o'clock  struck;  and  the  signs  of  domestic  life  began  to 
show  themselves  in  more  rapid  succession. 

The  house-maid  came  down— tall  and  slim,  with  the  state  of  the 
spring  temperature  written  redly  on  her  nose.  The  lady's-maid  fol- 
lowed— young,  smart,  plump,  and  sleepy.  The  kitchen-maid  came 
next — afflicted  with  the  face-ache,  and  making  no  secret  of  her  suf- 
ferings. Last  of  all,  the  footman  appeared,  yawning  disconsolately ; 
the  living  picture  of  a  man  who  felt  that  he  had  been  defrauded  of 
his  fair  night's  rest. 

The  conversation  of  the  servants,  when  they  assembled  before  the 
slowly  lighting  kitchen  fire,  referred  to  a  recent  family  event,  and 
turned  at  starting  on  this  question :  Had  Thomas,  the  footman, 
seen  any  thing  of  the  concert  at  Clifton,  at  which  his  master  and 
the  two  young  ladies  had  been  present  on  the  previous  night? 
Yes;  Thomas  had  heard  the  concert;  he  had  been  paid  for  to  go 
in  at  the  back ;  it  was  a  loud  concert ;  it  was  a  hot  concert ;  it  was 
described  at  the  top  of  the  bills  as  Grand ;  whether  it  was  worth 
traveling  sixteen  miles  to  hear  by  railway,  with  the  additional  hard- 
ship of  going  back  nineteen  miles  by  road,  at  half -past  one  in  the 
morning — was  a  question  which  he  would  leave  his  master  and  the 
young  ladies  to  decide ;  his  own  opinion,  in  the  mean  time,  being 
unhesitatingly,  No.  Further  inquiries,  on  the  part  of  all  the  female 
servants  in  succession,  elicited  no  additional  information  of  any  sort. 
Thomas  could  hum  none  of  the  songs,  and  could  describe  none  of 
the  ladies'  dresses.  His  audience,  accordingly,  gave  him  up  in  de- 
spair; and  the  kitchen  small -talk  flowed  back  into  its  ordinary 
channels,  until  the  clock  struck  eight,  and  startled  the  assembled 
servants  into  separating  for  their  morning's  work. 

A  quarter  past  eight,  and  nothing  happened.  Half- past  —  and 
more  signs  of  life  appeared  from  the  bedroom  regions.  The  next 
member  of  the  family  who  came  down  stairs  was  Mr.  Andrew  Van- 
stone,  the  master  of  the  house. 

Tall,  stout,  and  upright — with  bright  blue  eyes,  and  healthy  florid 
complexion— his  brown  plush  shooting-jacket  carelessly  buttoned 
awry;  his  vixenish  little  Scotch  terrier  barking  unrebuked  at  his 
heels;  one  hand  thrust  into  his  waistcoat  pocket,  and  the  other 
smacking  the  banisters  cheerfully  as  he  came  down  stairs  humming 
a  tune — Mr.  Vanstone  showed  his  character  on  the  surface  of  him 
freely  to  all  men.  An 'easy,  hearty,  handsome,  good-humored  gen- 
tleman, who  walked  on  the  sunny  side  of  the  way  of  life,  and  who 
asked  nothing  better  than  to  meet  all  his  fellow-passengers  in  this 
world  on  the  sunny  side,  too.  Estimating  him  by  years,  he  had 
turned  fifty.  Judging  him  by  lightness  of  heart,  strength  of  con- 
stitution, and  capacity  for  enjoyment,  he  was  no  older  than  most 
men  who  have  only  turned  thirty. 


NO   NAME.  18 

"  Thomas  !"  cried  Mr.  Vanstone,  taking  up  his  old  felt  hat  and  his 
thick  walking-stick  from  the  hall  table.  "  Breakfast,  this  morning, 
at  ten.  The  young  ladies  are  not  likely  to  be  down  earlier  after 
the  concert  last  night.— By-the-bye,  how  did  you  like  the  concert 
yourself,  eh  ?  You  thought  it  was  grand  ?  Quite  right ;  so  it  was. 
Nothing  but  crash-bang,  varied  now  and  then  by  bang-crash ;  all 
the  women  dressed  within  an  inch  of  their  lives ;  smothering  heat, 
blazing  gas,  and  no  room  for  any  body — yes,  yes,  Thomas ;  grand's 
the  word  for  it,  and  comfortable  isn't."  With  that  expression  of 
opinion,  Mr.  Vanstone  whistled  to  his  vixenish  terrier ;  flourished 
his  stick  at  the  hall  door  in  cheerful  defiance  of  the  rain;  and  set 
off  through  wind  and  weather  for  his  morning  walk. 

The  hands,  stealing  their  steady  way  round  the  dial  of  the  clock, 
pointed  to  ten  minutes  to  nine.  Another  member  of  the  family  ap- 
peared on  the  stairs — Miss  Garth,  the  governess. 

No  observant  eyes  could  have  surveyed  Miss  Garth  without  see- 
ing at  once  that  she  was  a  north-countrywoman.  Her  hard-featured 
face  ;  her  masculine  readiness  and  decision  of  movement ;  her  obsti- 
nate honesty  of  look  and  manner,  all  proclaimed  her  border  birth 
and  border  training.  Though  little  more  than  forty  years  of  age, 
her  hair  was  quite  gray ;  and  she  wore  over  it  the  plain  cap  of  an 
old  woman.  Neither  hair  nor  head-dress  was  out  of  harmony  with 
her  face — it  looked  older  than  her  years  :  the  hard  handwriting  of 
trouble  had  scored  it  heavily  at  some  past  time.  The  self-possession 
of  her  progress  down  stairs,  and  the  air  of  habitual  authority  with 
which  she  looked  about  her,  spoke  well  for  her  position  in  Mr.  Van- 
stone's  family.  This  was  evidently  not  one  of  the  forlorn,  perse- 
cuted, pitiably  dependent  order  of  governesses.  Here  was  a  woman 
who  lived  on  ascertained  and  honorable  terms  with  her  employers 
— a  woman  who  looked  capable  of  sending  any  parents  in  England 
to  the  right-about,  if  they  failed  to  rate  her  at  her  proper  value. 

"  Breakfast  at  ten  ?"  repeated  Miss  Garth,  when  the  footman  had 
answered  the  bell,  and  had  mentioned  his  master's  orders.  "  Ha  !  I 
thought  what  would  come  of  that  concert  last  night.  When  people 
who  live  in  the  country  patronize  public  amusements,  public  amuse- 
ments return  the  compliment  by  upsetting  the  family  afterward  for 
days  together.  TotCre  upset,  Thomas,  I  can  see — your  eyes  are  as 
red  as  a  ferret's,  and  -your  cravat  looks  as  if  you  had  slept  in  it. 
Bring  the  kettle  at  a  quarter  to  ten — and  if  you  don't  get  better  in 
the  course  of  the  day,  come  to  me,  and  I'll  give  you  a  dose  of  physic. 
That's  a  well-meaning  lad,  if  you  only  let  him  alone,"  continued 
Miss  Garth,  in  soliloquy,  when  Thomas  had  retired ;  "  but  he's  not 
strong  enough  for  concerts  twenty  miles  off.  They  wanted  me  to 
go  with  them  last  night.     Yes:  catch  me!" 

Nine  o'clock  struck;  and  the  minute-hand   stole  on  to  twenty 


14  NO   NAME. 

minutes  past  the  hour,  before  any  more  footsteps  were  heard  on  the 
stairs.  At  the  end  of  that  time,  two  ladies  appeared,  descending  to 
the  breakfast-room  together — Mrs.  Vanstone  and  her  eldest  daughter. 

If  the  personal  attractions  of  Mrs.  Vanstone,  at  an  earlier  period 
of  life,  had  depended  solely  on  her  native  English  charms  of  com- 
plexion and  freshness,  she  must  have  long  since  lost  the  last  relics 
of  her  fairer  self.  But  her  beauty  as  a  young  woman  had  passed 
beyond  the  average  national  limits ;  and  she  still  preserved  the  ad- 
vantage of  her  more  exceptional  personal  gifts.  Although  she  was 
now  in  her  forty-fourth  year ;  although  she  had  been  tried,  in  by- 
gone times,  by  the  premature  loss  of  more  than  one  of  her  children, 
and  by  long  attacks  of  illness  which  had  followed  those  bereave- 
ments of  former  years — she  still  preserved  the  fair  proportion  and 
subtle  delicacy  of  feature,  once  associated  with  the  all-adorning 
brightness  and  freshness  of  beauty,  which  had  left  her  never  to  re- 
turn. Her  eldest  child,  now  descending  the  stairs  by  her  side,  was 
the  mirror  in  which  she  could  look  back,  and  see  again  the  reflec- 
tion of  her  own  youth.  There,  folded  thick  on  the  daughter's  head, 
lay  the  massive  dark  hair,  which,  on  the  mother's,  was  fast  turning 
gray.  There,  in  the  daughter's  cheek,  glowed  the  lovely  dusky  red 
which  had  faded  from  the  mother's  to  bloom  again  no  more.  Miss 
Vanstone  had  already  reached  the  first  maturity  of  womanhood ; 
she  had  completed  her  six-and-twentieth  year.  Inheriting  the  dark 
majestic  character  of  her  mother's  beauty,  she  had  yet  hardly  inher- 
ited all  its  charms.  Though  the  shape  of  her  face  was  the  same,  the 
features  were  scarcely  so  delicate,  their  proportion  was  scarcely  so 
true.  She  was  not  so  tall.  She  had  the  dark-brown  eyes  of  her 
mother — full  and  soft,  with  the  steady  lustre  in  them  which  Mrs. 
Vanstone's  eyes  had  lost — and  yet  there  was  less  interest,  less  refine- 
ment and  depth  of  feeling  in  her  expression :  it  was  gentle  and 
feminine,  but  clouded  by  a  certain  quiet  reserve,  from  which  her 
mother's  face  was  free.  If  we  dare  to  look  closely  enough,  may  we 
not  observe  that  the  moral  force  of  character  and  the  higher  intel- 
lectual capacities  in  parents  seem  often  to  wear  out  mysteriously  in 
the  course  of  transmission  to  children  ?  In  these  days  of  insidious 
nervous  exhaustion  and  subtly-spreading  nervous  malady,  is  it  not 
possible  that  the  same  rule  may  apply,  less  rarely  than  we  are  will- 
ing to  admit,  to  the  bodily  gifts  as  well  ? 

The  mother  and  daughter  slowly  descended  the  stairs  together— 
the  first  dressed  in  dark  brown,  with  an  Indian  shawl  thrown  over 
her  shoulders ;  the  second  more  simply  attired  in  black,  with  a  plain 
collar  and  cuffs,  and  a  dark  orange-colored  ribbon  over  the  bosom 
of  her  dress.  As  they  crossed  the  hall  and  entered  the  breakfast- 
room,  Miss  Vanstone  was  full  of  the  all-absorbing  subject  of  the  last 
night's  concert. 


NO   NAME.  15 

"  I  am  so  sorry,  mamma,  you  were  not  with  us,"  she  said.  "  You 
have  been  so  strong  and  so  well  ever  since  last  summer — you  have 
felt  so  many  years  younger,  as  you  said  yourself — that  I  am  sure 
the  exertion  would  not  have  been  too  much  for  you." 

"  Perhaps  not,  my  love — but  it  was  as  well  to  keep  on  the  safe 
side." 

"  Quite  as  well,"  remarked  Miss  Garth,  appearing  at  the  breakfast- 
room  door.  "  Look  at  Norah  (good-morning,  my  dear) — look,  I  say, 
at  Norah.  A  perfect  wreck ;  a  living  proof  of  your  wisdom  and 
mine  in  staying  at  home.  The  vile  gas,  the  foul  air,  the  late  hours 
— what  can  you  expect  ?  She's  not  made  of  iron,  and  she  suffers  ac- 
cordingly. No,  my  dear,  you  needn't  deny  it.  I  see  you've  got  a 
headache." 

Norah's  dark,  handsome  face  brightened  into  a  smile — then  light- 
ly clouded  again  with  its  accustomed  quiet  reserve. 

"  A  very  little  headache ;  not  half  enough  to  make  me  regret  the 
concert,"  she  said,  and  walked  away  by  herself  to  the  window. 

On  the  far  side  of  a  garden  and  paddock,  the  view  overlooked  a 
stream,  some  farm  buildings  which  lay  beyond,-and  the  opening  of 
a  wooded,  rocky  pass  (called,  in  Somersetshire,  a  Combe),  which  here 
sieft  its  way  through  the  hills  that  closed  the  prospect.  A  winding 
strip  of  road  was  visible,  at  no  great  distance,  amidst  the  undulations 
of  the  open  ground  ;  and  along  this  strip  the  stalwart  figure  of  Mr. 
Vanstone  was  now  easily  recognizable,  returning  to  the  house  from 
his  morning  walk.  He  flourished  his  stick  gayly,  as  he  observed  his 
eldest  daughter  at  the  window.  She  nodded  and  waved  her  hand 
in  return,  very  gracefully  and  prettily — but  with  something  of  old- 
fashioned  formality  in  her  manner,  which  looked  strange^  in  so 
young  a  woman,  and  which  seemed  out  of  harmony  with  a  saluta- 
tion addressed  to  her  father. 

The  hall-clock  struck  the  adjourned  breakfast-hour.  When  the 
minute-hand  had  recorded  the  lapse  of  five  minutes  more,  a  door 
banged  in  the  bedroom  regions— a  clear  young  voice  was  heard 
singing  blithely — light,  rapid  footsteps  pattered  on  the  upper  stairs, 
descended  with  a  jump  to  the  landing,  and  pattered  again,  faster 
than  ever,  down  the  lower  flight.  In  another  moment,  the  youngest 
of  Mr.  Vanstone's  two  daughters  (and  two  only  surviving  children) 
dashed  into  view  on  the  dingy  old  oaken  stairs,  with  the  sudden- 
ness of  a  flash  of  light ;  and  clearing  the  last  three  steps  into  the 
hall  at  a  jump,  presented  herself  breathless  in  the  breakfast-room,  to 
make  the  family  circle  complete. 

By  one  of  those  strange  caprices  of  Nature,  which  science  leaves 
still  unexplained,  the  youngest  of  Mr.  Vanstone's  children  presented 
mo  recognizable  resemblance  to  either  of  her  parents.    How  had  sh$ 


16  NO    NAME. 

come  by  her  hair  ?  how  had  she  come  by  her  eyes  ?  Even  her  father 
and  mother  had  asked  themselves  those  questions,  as  she  grew  up  to 
girlhood,  and  had  been  sorely  perplexed  to  answer  them.  Her  hair 
was  of  that  purely  light-brown  hue,  unmixed  with  flaxen,  or  yellow, 
or  red — which  is  oftener  seen  on  the  plumage  of  a  bird  than  on  the 
head  of  a  human  being.  It  was  soft  and  plentiful,  and  waved  down- 
ward from  her  low  forehead  in  regular  folds — but,  to  some  tastes,  it 
was  dull  and  dead,  in  its  absolute  want  of  glossiness,  in  its  monoto- 
nous purity  of  plain  light  color.  Her  eyebrows  and  eyelashes  were 
just  a  shade  darker  than  her  hair,  and  seemed  made  expressly  for 
those  violet-blue  eyes,  which  assert  their  most  irresistible  charm 
when  associated  with  a  fair  complexion.  But  it  was  here  exactly 
that  the  promise  of  her  face  failed  of  performance  in  the  most  star- 
tling manner.  The  eyes,  which  should  have  been  dark,  were  incom- 
prehensibly and  discordantly  light ;  they  were  of  that  nearly  color- 
less gray  which,  though  little  attractive  in  itself,  possesses  the  rare 
compensating  merit  of  interpreting  the  finest  gradations  of  thought, 
the  gentlest  changes  of  feeling,  the  deepest  trouble  of  passion,  with 
a  subtle  transparency  of  expression  which  no  darker  eyes  can  rival. 
Thus  quaintly  self-contradictory  in  the  upper  part  of  her  face,  she 
was  hardly  less  at  variance  with  established  ideas  of  harmony  in  the 
lower.  Her  lips  had  the  true  feminine  delicacy  of  form,  her  cheeks 
the  lovely  roundness  and  smoothness  of  youth — but  the  mouth  was 
too  large  and  firm,  the  chin  too  square  and  massive  for  her  sex  and 
age.  Her  complexion  partook  of  the  pure  monotony  of  tint  which 
characterized  her  hair — it  was  of  the  same  soft,  warm,  creamy  fair- 
ness all  over,  without  a  tinge  of  color  in  the  cheeks,  except  on  oc- 
casions of  unusual  bodily  exertion,  or  sudden  mental  disturbance. 
The  whole  countenance  —  so  remarkable  in  its  strongly  opposed 
characteristics — was  rendered  additionally  striking  by  its  extraor- 
dinary mobility.  The  large,  electric,  light-gray  eyes  were  hardly 
ever  in  repose ;  all  varieties  of  expression  followed  each  other  over 
the  plastic,  ever-changing  face,  with  a  giddy  rapidity  which  left  so- 
ber analysis  far  behind  in  the  race.  The  girl's  exuberant  vitality 
asserted  itself  all  over  her,  from  head  to  foot.  Her  figure — taller 
than  her  sister's,  taller  than  the  average  of  woman's  height ;  instinct 
with  such  a  seductive,  serpentine  suppleness,  so  lightly  and  playful 
ly  graceful,  that  its  movements  suggested,  not  unnaturally,  the  move- 
ments of  a  young  cat — her  figure  was  so  perfectly  developed  already 
that  no  one  who  saw  her  could  have  supposed  that  she  was  only 
eighteen.  She  bloomed  in  the  full  physical  maturity  of  twenty  years 
or  more — bloomed  naturally  and  irresistibly,  in  right  of  her  match- 
less health  and  strength.  Here,  in  truth,  lay  the  mainspring  of  this 
strangely  -  constituted  organization.  Her  headlong  course  down 
the  house  stairs ;  the  brisk  activity  of  all  her  movements ;  the  in- 


NO    NAME.  17 

ceasant  sparkle  Of  expression  in  her  face  ;  the  enticing  gayety  whicli 
took  the  hearts  of  the  quietest  people  by  storm — even  the  reckless 
delight  in  bright  colors  which  showed  itself  in  her  brilliantly-striped 
morning  dress,  in  her  fluttering  ribbons,  in  the  large  scarlet  rosettes 
on  her  smart  little  shoes — all  sprang  alike  from  the  same  source ; 
from  the  overflowing  physical  health  which  strengthened  every 
muscle,  braced  every  nerve,  and  set  the  warm  young  blood  tingling 
through  her  veins,  like  the  blood  of  a  growing  child. 

On  her  entry  into  the  breakfast-room,  she  was  saluted  with  the 
customary  remonstrance  which  her  flighty  disregard  of  all  punctu- 
ality habitually  provoked  from  the  long-suffering  household  au- 
thorities. In  Miss  Garth's  favorite  phrase,  "Magdalen  was  born 
with  all  the  senses — except  a  sense  of  order." 

Magdalen  !  It  was  a  strange  name  to  have  given  her  ?  Strange, 
indeed ;  and  yet,  chosen  under  no  extraordinary  circumstances. 
The  name  had  been  borne  by  one  of  Mr.  Vanstone's  sisters,  who 
had  died  in  early  youth;  and,  in  affectionate  remembrance  of  her, 
he  had  called  his  second  daughter  by  it — just  as  he  had  called  his 
eldest  daughter  Norah,  for  his  wife's  sake.  Magdalen  !  Surely, 
the  grand  old  Bible  name — suggestive  of  a  sad  and  sombre  digni- 
ty ;  recalling,  in  its  first  association,  mournful  ideas  of  penitence 
and  seclusion — had  been  here,  as  events  had  turned  out,  inappro- 
priately bestowed  ?  Surely,  this  self-  contradictory  girl  had  per- 
versely accomplished  one  contradiction  more,  by  developing  into  a 
character  which  was  out  of  all  harmony  with  her  own  Christian 
name  ! 

"  Late  again !"  said  Mrs.  Vanstone,  as  Magdalen  breathlessly  kiss- 
ed her. 

"  Late  again !"  chimed  in  Miss  Garth,  when  Magdalen  came  her 
way  next.  "  Well  ?"  she  went  on,  taking  the  girl's  chin  familiarly 
in  her  hand,  with  a  half-satirical,  half-fond  attention  which  betrayed 
that  the  youngest  daughter,  with  all  her  faults,  was  the  governess's 
favorite — "  Well  ?  and  what  has  the  concert  done  for  you  ?  What 
form  of  suffering  has  dissipation  inflicted  on  your  system  this  morn- 
ing ?" 

"  Suffering !"  repeated  Magdalen,  recovering  her  breath,  and  the 
use  of  her  tongue  with  it.  "  I  don't  know  the  meaning  of  the  word : 
if  there's  any  thing  the  matter  with  me,  I'm  too  well.  Suffering! 
I'm  ready  for  another  concert  to-night,  and  a  ball  to-morrow,  and 
a  play  the  day  after.  Oh,"  cried  Magdalen,  dropping  into  a  chair 
and  crossing  her  hands  rapturously  on  the  table,  "  how  I  do  like 
pleasure !" 

"  Come !  that's  explicit  at  any  rate,"  said  Miss  Garth.  "  I  think 
Pope  must  have  had  you  in  his  mind  when  he  wrote  his  famous  lines: 


18  NO   NAME. 

"  '  Men  some  to  business,  Bome  to  pleasure  take, 
But  every  woman  is  at  heart  a  rake.'  " 

"  The  deuce  she  is !"  cried  Mr.  Vanstoue,  entering  the  room  while 
Miss  Garth  was  making  her  quotation,  with  the  dogs  at  his  heels. 
"  Well ;  live  and  learn.  If  you're  all  rakes,  Miss  Garth,  the  sexes 
are  turned  topsy-turvy  with  a  vengeance ;  and  the  men  will  have 
nothing  left  for  it  but  to  stop  at  home  and  darn  the  stockings.— 
Let's  have  some  breakfast." 

"How-d'ye-do,  papa?"  said  Magdalen,  taking  Mr.  Vanstone  as 
boisterously  round  the  neck,  as  if  he  belonged  to  some  larger  order 
of  Newfoundland  dog,  and  was  made  to  be  romped  with  at  his 
daughter's  convenience.  "  I'm  the  rake  Miss  Garth  means ;  and  I 
want  to  go  to  another  concert — or  a  play,  if  you  like — or  a  ball,  if 
you  prefer  it — or  any  thing  else  in  the  way  of  amusement  that  puts 
me  into  a  new  dress,  and  plunges  me  into  a  crowd  of  people,  and 
illuminates  me  with*  plenty  of  light,  and  sets  me  in  a  tingle  of  ex- 
citement all  over,  from  head  to  foot.  Any  thing  will  do,  as  long  as 
it  doesn't  send  us  to  bed  at  eleven  o'clock." 

Mr.  Vanstone  sat  down  composedly  under  his  daughter's  flow  of 
language,  like  a  man  who  was  well  used  to  verbal  inundation  from 
that  quarter.  "If  I  am  to  be  allowed  my  choice  of  amusements 
next  time,"  said  the  worthy  gentleman,  "  I  think  a  play  will  suit 
me  better  than  a  concert.  The  girls  enjoyed  themselves  amazingly, 
my  dear,"  he  continued,  addressing  his  wife.  "More  than  I  did,  I 
must  say.  It  was  altogether  above  my  mark.  They  played  one 
piece  of  music  which  lasted  forty  minutes.  It  stopped  three  times, 
by-the-way;  and  we  all  thought  it  was  done  each  time,  and  clap- 
ped our  hands,  rejoiced  to  be  rid  of  it.  But  on  it  went  again,  to  our 
great  surprise  and  mortification,  till  we  gave  it  up  in  despair,  and  all 
wished  ourselves  at  Jericho.  Norah,  my  dear !  when  we  had  crash- 
bang  for  forty  minutes,  with  three  stoppages  by-the-way,  what  did 
they  call  it?" 

"  A  symphony,  papa,"  replied  Norah. 

"  Yes,  you  darling  old  Goth,  a  symphony  by  the  great  Beethoven !" 
added  Magdalen.  "  How  can  you  say  you  were  not  amused  ?  Have 
you  forgotten  the  yellow-looking  foreign  woman,  with  the  unpro- 
nounceable name  ?  Don't  you  remember  the  faces  she  made  when 
she  sang  ?  and  the  way  she  courtesied  and  courtesied,  till  she  cheat- 
ed the  foolish  people  into  crying  encore  ?  Look  here,  mamma  — 
look  here,  Miss  Garth  !" 

She  snatched  up  an  empty  plate  from  the  table,  to  represent  a 
sheet  of  music,  held  it  before  her  in  the  established  concert-room 
position,  and  produced  an  imitation  of  the  unfortunate  singer's  gri- 
maces and  courtesyings,  so  accurately  and  quaintly  true  to  the  orig- 
inal, that  her  father  roared  with  laughter ;  and  even  the  footman. 


NO    NAME.  19 

(who  came  in  at  that  moment  with  the  post-bag)  rushed  out  of  the 
room  again,  and  committed  the  indecorum  of  echoing  his  master 
audibly  on  the  other  side  of  the  door. 

"  Letters,  papa.  I  want  the  key,"  said  Magdalen,  passing  from 
the  imitation  at  the  breakfast-table  to  the  post-bag  on  the  side- 
board, with  the  easy  abruptness  which  characterized  all  her  actions. 

Mr.  Vanstone  searched  his  pockets  and  shook  his  head.  Though 
his  youngest  daughter  might  resemble  him  in  nothing  else,  it  was 
easy  to  see  where  Magdalen's  unmethodical  habits  came  from. 

"I  dare  say  I  have  left  it  in  the  library,  along  with  my  other 
keys,"  said  Mr.  Vanstone.     "  Go  and  look  for  it,  my  dear." 

"You  really  should  check  Magdalen,"  pleaded  Mrs.  Vanstone, 
addressing  her  husband,  when  her  daughter  had  left  the  room. 
"  Those  habits  of  mimicry  are  growing  on  her ;  and  she  speaks  to 
you  with  a  levity  which  it  is  positively  shocking  to  hear." 

"Exactly  what  I  have  said  myself,  till  I  am  tired  of  repeating  it," 
remarked  Miss  Garth.  "  She  treats  Mr.  Vanstone  as  if  he  was  a 
kind  of  younger  brother  of  hers." 

"  You  are  kind  to  us  in  every  thing  else,  papa ;  and  you  make 
kind  allowances  for  Magdalen's  high  spirits — don't  you  ?"  said  the 
quiet  Norah,  taking  her  father's  part  and  her  sister's,  with  so  little 
show  of  resolution  on  the  surface,  that  few  observers  would  have 
been  sharp  enough  to  detect  the  genuine  substance  beneath  it. 

"  Thank  you,  my  dear,"  said  good-natured  Mr.  Vanstone.  "  Thank 
you,  for  a  very  pretty  speech.  As  for  Magdalen,"  he  continued,  ad- 
dressing his  wife  and  Miss  Garth,  "  she's  an  unbroken  filly.  Let  her 
caper  and  kick  in  the  paddock  to  her  heart's  content.  Time  enough 
to  break  her  to  harness,  when  she  gets  a  little  older." 

The  door  opened,  and  Magdalen  returned  with  the  key.  She  un- 
locked the  post-bag  at  the  sideboard  and  poured  out  the  letters  in 
a  heap.  Sorting  them  gayly  in  less  than  a  minute,  she  approached 
the  breakfast-table  with  both  hands  full ;  and  delivered  the  letters 
all  round  with  the  business-like  rapidity  of  a  London  postman. 

"Two  for  Norah,"  she  announced,  beginning  with  her  sister. 
"  Three  for  Miss  Garth.  None  for  mamma.  One  for  me.  And  the 
other  six  all  for  papa.  You  lazy  old  darling,  you  hate  answering 
letters,  don't  you  ?"  pursued  Magdalen,  dropping  the  postman's 
character,  and  assuming  the  daughter's.  "  How  you  will  grumble 
and  fidget  in  the  study !  and  how  you  will  wish  there  were  no  such 
things  as  letters  in  the  world  !  and  how  red  your  nice  old  bald 
head  will  get  at  the  top  with  the  worry  of  writing  the  answers ;  and 
how  many  of  the  answers  you  will  leave  until  to-morrow  after  all ! 
The  Bristol  Theatre's  open,  papa,'"  she  whispered,  slyly  and  suddenly, 
in  her  father's  ear ;  "  I  saw  it  iu  the  newspaper  when  I  went  to  the 
library  to  get  the  key.     Let's  go  to-morrow  night !" 


20  NO    NAME. 

While  his  daughter  was  chattering,  Mr.  Vanstone  was  mechanical 
ly  sorting  his  letters.  He  turned  over  the  first  four  in  succession, 
and  looked  carelessly  at  the  addresses.  When  he  came  to  the  fifth, 
his  attention,  which  had  hitherto  wandered  toward  Magdalen,  sud- 
denly became  fixed  on  the  post-mark  of  the  letter. 

Stooping  over  him,  with  her  head  on  his  shoulder,  Magdalen 
could  see  the  post-mark  as  plainly  as  her  father  saw  it  — New  Ob 
leans. 

"An  American  letter,  papa!"  she  said.  "Who  do  you  know  at 
New  Orleans?" 

Mrs.  Vanstone  started,  and  looked  eagerly  at  her  husband,  the 
moment  Magdalen  spoke  those  words. 

Mr.  Vanstone  said  nothing.  He  quietly  removed  his  daughter's 
arm  from  his  neck,  as  if  he  wished  to  be  free  from  all  interruption. 
She  returned,  accordingly,  to  her  place  at  the  breakfast-table.  Her 
father,  with  the  letter  in  his  hand,  waited  a  little  before  he  opened 
it ;  her  mother  looking  at  him,  the  while,  with  an  eager,  expectant 
attention,  which  attracted  Miss  Garth's  notice,  and  Norah's,  as  well 
as  Magdalen's. 

After  a  minute  or  more  of  hesitation,  Mr.  Vanstone  opened  the 
letter. 

His  face  changed  color  the  instant  he  read  the  first  lines;  his 
cheeks  fading  to  a  dull,  yellow-brown  hue,  which  would  have  been 
ashy  paleness  in  a  less  florid  man;  and  his  expression  becoming- 
saddened  and  overclouded  in  a  moment.  Norah  and  Magdalen, 
watching  anxiously,  saw  nothing  but  the  change  that  passed  over 
their  father.  Miss  Garth  alone  observed  the  effect  which  that 
change  produced  on  the  attentive  mistress  of  the  house. 

It  was  not  the  effect  which  she,  or  any  one,  could  have  antici- 
pated. Mrs.  Vanstone  looked  excited  rather  than  alarmed  A  faint 
flush  rose  on  her  cheeks — her  eyes  brightened — she  stirred  the  tea 
round  and  round  in  her  cup  in  a  restless,  impatient  manner  which 
was  not  natural  to  her. 

Magdalen,  in  her  capacity  of  spoiled  child,  was,  as  usual,  the  first 
to  break  the  silence. 

"  What  is  the  matter,  papa  ?"  she  asked. 

"  Nothing,"  said  Mr.  Vanstone,  sharply,  without  looking  up  at  her. 

"  I'm  sure  there  must  be  something,"  persisted  Magdalen.  "  I'm 
sure  there  is  bad  news,  papa,  in  that  American  letter." 

"  There  is  nothing  in  the  letter  that  concerns  you,''''  said  Mr.  Van- 
stone. 

It  was  the  first  direct  rebuff  that  Magdalen  had  ever  received 
from  her  father.  She  looked  at  him  with  an  incredulous  surprise, 
which  would  have  been  irresistibly  absurd  under  less  serious  cir- 
cumstances. 


NO    NAME.  21 

Nothing  more  was  said.  For  the  first  time,  perhaps,  in  their 
lives,  the  family  sat  round  the  breakfast-table  in  painful  silence. 
Mr.  Vanstone's  hearty  morning  appetite,  like  his  hearty  morning 
spirits,  was  gone.  He  absently  broke  off  some  morsels  of  dry  toast 
from  the  rack  near  him,  absently  finished  his  first  cup  of  tea — then 
asked  for  a  second,  which  he  left  before  him  untouched. 

"  Norah,"  he  said,  after  an  interval,  "  you  needn't  wait  for  me. 
Magdalen,  my  dear,  you  can  go  when  you  like." 

His  daughters  rose  immediately ;  and  Miss  Garth  considerately 
followed  their  example.  When  an  easy-tempered  man  does  assert 
himself  in  his  family,  the  rarity  of  the  demonstration  invariably  has 
its  effect ;  and  the  will  of  that  easy-tempered  man  is  Law. 

"  What  can  have  happened  ?"  whispered  Norah,  as,  they  closed 
the  breakfast-room  door,  and  crossed  the  hall. 

u  What  does  papa  mean  by  being  cross  with  Me  ?"  exclaimed 
Magdalen,  chafing  under  a  sense  of  her  own  injuries. 

"  May  I  ask  what  right  you  had  to  pry  into  your  father's  private 
affairs  ?"  retorted  Miss  Garth. 

"  Right  ?"  repeated  Magdalen.  "  I  have  no  secrets  from  papa — 
what  business  has  papa  to  have  secrets  from  me !  I  consider  my- 
self insulted." 

"  If  you  considered  yourself  properly  reproved  for  not  minding 
your  own  business,"  said  the  plain-spoken  Miss  Garth,  "  you  would 
be  a  trifle  nearer  the  truth.  Ah  !  you  are  like  all  the  rest  of  the 
girls  in  the  present  day.  Not  one  in  a  hundred  of  you  knows  which 
end  of  her's  uppermost." 

The  three  ladies  entered  the  morning-room;  and  Magdalen  ac- 
knowledged Miss  Garth's  reproof  by  banging  the  door. 

Half  an  hour  passed,  and  neither  Mr.  Vanstone  nor  his  wife  left 
the  breakfast-room.  The  servant/ignorant  of  what  had  happened, 
went  in  to  clear  the  table — found  his  master  and  mistress  seated 
close  together  in  deep  consultation  —  and  immediately  went  out 
again.  Another  quarter  of  an  hour  elapsed  before  the  breakfast- 
room  door  was  opened,  and  the  private  conference  of  the  husband 
and  wife  came  to  an  end. 

"  I  hear  mamma  in  the  hall,"  said  Norah.  "  Perhaps  she  is  com- 
ing to  tell  us  something." 

Mrs.  Vanstone  entered  the  morning-room  as  her  daughter  spoke. 
The  color  was  deeper  on  her  cheeks,  and  the  brightness  of  half- 
dried  tears  glistened  in  her  eyes ;  her  step  was  more  hasty,  all  her 
movements  were  quicker  than  usual. 

"  I  bring  news,  my  dears,  which  will  surprise  you,"  she  said,  ad- 
dressing her  daughters.  "Your  father  and  I  are  going  to  London 
to-morrow." 

Magdalen  caught  her  mother  by  the  arm  in  speechless  astonish- 


22  NO    NAME. 

ment.  Miss  Garth  dropped  her  work  on  her  lap;  even  the  sedatt 
Norah  started  to  her  feet,  and  amazedly  repeated  the  words,  "  Going 
to  London !" 

"  Without  us  ?"  added  Magdalen. 

. "  Your  father  and  I  are  going  alone,"  said  Mrs.  Vanstone.  "  Per- 
haps, for  as  long  as  three  weeks  —  but  not  longer.  We  are  go- 
ing"— she  hesitated — "we  are  going  on  important  family  business. 
Don't  hold  me,  Magdalen.  This  is  a  sudden  necessity — I  have  a 
great  deal  to  do  to-day — many  things  to  set  in  order  before  to-mor- 
row.    There,  there,  my  love,  let  me  go." 

She  drew  her  arm  away ;  hastily  kissed  her  youngest  daughter  on 
the  forehead;  and  at  once  left  the  room  again.  Even  Magdalen 
saw  that  her  mother  was  not  to  be  coaxed  into  hearing  or  answer- 
ing any  more  questions. 

The  morning  wore  on,  and  nothing  was  seen  of  Mr.  Vanstone. 
With  the  reckless  curiosity  of  her  age  and  character,  Magdalen,  in 
defiance  of  Miss  Garth's  prohibition  and  her  sister's  remonstrances, 
determined  to  go  to  the  study,  and  look  for  her  father  there.  When 
she  tried  the  door,  it  was  locked  on  the  inside.  She  said,  "  It's  only 
me,  papa;"  and  waited  for  the  answer.  "I'm  busy  now,  my  dear," 
was  the  answer.     "  Don't  disturb  me." 

Mrs.  Vanstone  was,  in  another  way,  equally  inaccessible.  She  re- 
mained in  her  own  room,  with  the  female  servants  about  her,  im- 
mersed in  endless  preparations  for  the  approaching  departure.  The 
servants,  little  used  in  that  family  to  sudden  resolutions  and  unex- 
pected orders,  were  awkward  and  confused  in  obeying  directions. 
They  ran  from  room  to  room  unnecessarily,  and  lost  time  and  pa- 
tience in  jostling  each  other  on  the  stairs.  If  a  stranger  had  enter- 
ed the  house  that  day,  he  might  have  imagined  that  an  unexpected 
disaster  had  happened  in  it,  instead  of  an  unexpected  necessity  for 
a  journey  to  London.  Nothing  proceeded  in  its  ordinary  routine. 
Magdalen,  who  was  accustomed  to  pass  the  morning  at  the  piano, 
wandered  restlessly  about  the  staircases  and  passages,  and  in  and 
out  of  doors  when  there  were  glirnj>ses  of  fine  weather.  Norah, 
whose  fondness  for  reading  had  passed  into  a  family  proverb,  took 
up  book  after  book  from  table  and  shelf,  and  laid  them  down  again, 
in  despair  of  fixing  her  attention.  Even  Miss  Garth  felt  the  all-per- 
vading influence  of  the  household  disorganization,  and  sat  alone  by 
the  morning-room  fire,  with  her  head  shaking  ominously,  and  her 
work  laid  aside. 

"  Family  affairs  ?"  thought  Miss  Garth,  pondering  over  Mrs.  Van- 
stone's  vague  explanatory  words.  "I  have  lived  twelve  years  at 
Combe-Raven;  and  these  are  the  first  family  affairs  which  have  got 
between  the  parents  and  the  children,  in  all  my  experience.  What 
does  it  mean  ?  Change  ?  I  suppose  I'm  getting  old.  I  don't  like 
change." 


NO    NAME.  23 


CHAPTER  II. 

At  ten  o'clock  the  next  morning,  Norah  and  Magdalen  stood 
alone  in  the  hall  at  Combe-Raven,  watching  the  departure  of  the 
carriage  which  took  their  father  and  mother  to  the  London  train. 

Up  to  the  last  moment,  both  the  sisters  had  hoped  for  some  ex- 
planation of  that  mysterious  "family  business"  to  which  Mrs.  Van- 
stone  had  so  briefly  alluded  on  the  previous  day.  No  such  expla- 
nation had  been  offered.  Even'  the  agitation  of  the  leave-taking, 
under  circumstances  entirely  new  in  the  home  experience  of  the 
parents  and  children,  had  not  shaken  the  resolute  discretion  of  Mr. 
and  Mrs.Vanstone.  They  had  gone — with  the  warmest  testimonies 
of  affection,  with  farewell  embraces  fervently  reiterated  again  and 
again — but  without  dropping  one  word,  from  first  to  last,  of  the  na- 
ture of  their  errand. 

As  the  grating  sound  of  the  carriage-wheels  ceased  suddenly  at 
a  turn  in  the  road,  the  sisters  looked  one  another  in  the  face ;  each 
feeling,  and  each  betraying  in  her  own  way,  the  dreary  sense  that 
she  was  openly  excluded,  for  the  first  time,  from  the  confidence  of 
her  parents.  Norah's  customary  reserve  strengthened  into  sullen 
silence  —  she  sat  down  in  one  of  the  hall  chairs,  and  looked  out 
frowningly  through  the  open  house  door.  Magdalen,  as  usual 
when  her  temper  was  ruffled,  expressed  her  dissatisfaction  in  the 
plainest  terms.  "I  don't  care  who  knows  it — I  think  we  are  both 
of  us  shamefully  ill-used !"  With  those  words,  the  young  lady  fol- 
lowed her  sister's  example,  by  seating  herself  on  a  hall  chair,  and 
looking  aimlessly  out  through  the  open  house  door. 

Almost  at  the  same  moment,  Miss  Garth  entered  the  hall  from  the 
morning-room.  Her  quick  observation  showed  her  the  necessity  for 
interfering  to  some  practical  purpose ;  and  her  ready  good  sense  at 
once  pointed  the  way. 

"  Look  up,  both  of  you,  if  you  please,  and  listen  to  me,"  said  Miss 
Garth.  "  If  we  are  all  three  to  be  comfortable  and  happy  together, 
now  we  are  alone,  we  must  stick  to  our  usual  habits  and  go  on  in 
our  regular  way.  There  is  the  state  of  things  in  plain  words.  Ac- 
cept the  situation  —  as  the  French  say.  Here  am  I  to  set  you  the 
example.  I  have  just  ordered  an  excellent  dinner  at  the  customary 
hour.  I  am  going  to  the  medicine-chest  next,  to  physic  the  kitchen- 
maid — an  unwholesome  girl,  whose  face-ache  is  all  stomach.  In  the 
mean  time,  Norah,  my  dear,  you  will  find  your  work  and  your  books, 


24  NO    NAME. 

as-  usual,  in  the  library.  Magdalen,  suppose  you  leave  off  tying  your 
handkerchief  into  knots,  and  use  your  fingers  on  the  keys  of  the 
piano  instead  ?  We'll  lunch  at  one,  and  take  the  dogs  out  after- 
ward. Be  as  brisk  and  cheerful  both  of  you  as  I  am.  Come,  rouse 
up  directly.  If  I  see  those  gloomy  faces  any  longer,  as  sure  as  my 
name's  Garth,  I'll  give  your  mother  written  warning,  and  go  back  to 
my  friends  by  the  mixed  train  at  twelve  forty." 

Concluding  her  address  of  expostulation  in  those  terms,  Miss 
Garth  led  Norah  to  the  library  door,  pushed  Magdalen  into  the 
morning-room,  and  went  on  her  own  way  sternly  to  the  regions  ot 
the  medicine-chest. 

In  this  half-jesting,  half-earnest  manner,  she  was  accustomed  to 
maintain  a  sort  of  friendly  authority  over  Mr.  Vanstone's  daughters, 
after  her  proper  functions  as  governess  had  necessarily  come  to  an 
end.  Norah,  it  is  needless  to  say,  had  long  since  ceased  to  be  her 
pupil ;  and  Magdalen  had,  by  this  time,  completed  her  education. 
But  Miss  Garth  had  lived  too  long  and  too  intimately  under  Mr. 
Vanstone's  roof  to  be  parted  with,  for  any  purely  formal  considera- 
tions; and  the  first  hint  at  going  away  which  she  had  thought  it 
her  duty  to  drop,  was  dismissed  with  such  affectionate  warmth  of 
protest,  that  she  never  repeated  it  again,  except  in  jest.  The  entire 
management  of  the  household  was,  from  that  time  forth,  left  in  her 
hands ;  and  to  those  duties  she  was  free  to  add  what  companionable 
assistance  she  could  render  to  Norah's  reading,  and  what  friendly 
superintendence  she  could  still  exercise  over  Magdalen's  music. 
Such  were  the  terms  on  which  Miss  Garth  was  now  a  resident  in 
Mr.  Vanstone's  family. 

Toward  the  afternoon  the  weather  improved.  At  half-past  one 
the  sun  was  shining  brightly  ;  and  the  ladies  left  the  house,  accom- 
panied by  the  dogs,  to  set  forth  on  their  walk. 

They  crossed  the  stream,  and  ascended  by  the  little  rocky  pass  to 
the  hills  beyond ;  then  diverged  to  the  left,  and  returned  by  a  cross- 
road which  led  through  the  village  of  Combe-Raven. 

As  they  came  in  sight  of  the  first  cottages,  they  passed  a  man, 
hanging  about  the  road,  who  looked  attentively,  first  at  Magdalen, 
then  at  Norah.  They  merely  observed  that  he  was  short,  that  he 
was  dressed  in  black,  and  that  he  was  a  total  stranger  to  them — and 
continued  their  homeward  walk,  without  thinking  more  about  the 
loitering  foot-passenger  whom  they  had  met  on  their  way  back. 

After  they  had  left  the  village,  and  had  entered  the  road  which 
led  straight  to  the  house,  Magdalena  surprised  Miss  Garth  by  an- 
nouncing that  the  stranger  in  black  had  turned,  after  they  had  pass- 
ed him,  and  was  now  following  them.  "  He  keeps  on  Norah's  side 
of  the  road,"  she  added,  mischievously.  "  I'm  not  the  attraction — 
don't  blame  me." 


NO   NAME.  25 

Whether  the  man  was  really  following  them,  or  not,  made  little 
difference,  for  they  were  now  close  to  the  house.  As  they  passed 
through  the  lodge-gates,  Miss  Garth  looked  round,  and  saw  that 
the  stranger  was  quickening  his  pace,  apparently  with  the  purpose 
of  entering  into  conversation.  Seeing  this,  she  at  once  directed  the 
young  ladies  to  go  on  to  the  house  with  the  dogs,  while  she  herself 
waited  for  events  at  the  gate. 

There  was  just  time  to  complete  this  discreet  arrangement,  before 
the  stranger  reached  the  lodge.     He  took  off  his  hat  to  Miss  Garth  _ 
politely,  as  she  turned  round.     What  did  he  look  like,  on  the  face 
of  him  ?     He  looked  like  a  clergyman  in  difficulties. 

Taking  his  portrait,  from  top  to  toe,  the  picture  of  him  began 
with  a  tall  hat,  broadly  encircled  by  a  mourning  band  of  crumpled 
crape.  Below  the  hat  was  a  lean,  long,  sallow  face,  deeply  jutted 
with  the  small-pox,  and  characterized,  very  remarkably,  by  eyes  of 
two  different  colors  —  one  bilious  green,  one  bilious  brown,  both 
sharply  intelligent.  His  hair  was  iron-gray,  carefully  brushed  round 
at  the  temples.  His  cheeks  and  chin  were  in  the  bluest  bloom  of 
smooth  shaving ;  his  nose  was  short  Roman ;  his  lips  long,  thin,  and 
supple,  curled  up  at  the  corners  with  a  mildly-humorous  smile.  His 
white  cravat  was  high,  stiff,  and  dingy;  the  collar,  higher,  stiffer, 
and  dingier,  projected  its  rigid  points  on  either  side  beyond  his 
chin.  Lower  down,  the  lithe  little  figure  of  the  man  was  arrayed 
throughout  in  sober-shabby  black.  His  frock-coat  was  buttoned 
tight  round  the  waist,  and  left  to  bulge  open  majestically  at  the 
chest.  His  hands  were  covered  with  black  cotton  gloves,  neatly 
darned  at  the  fingers  ;  his  umbrella,  worn  down  at  the  ferule  to  the 
last  quarter  of  an  inch,  was  carefully  preserved,  nevertheless,  in  an 
oil-skin  case.  The  front  view  of  him  was  the  view  in  which  he 
looked  oldest;  meeting  him  face  to  face,  he  might  have  been  esti- 
mated at  fifty  or  more.  Walking  behind  him,  his  back  and  shoul- 
ders were  almost  young  enough  to  have  passed  for  five-and-thirty. 
His  manners  were  distinguished  by  a  grave  serenity.  When  he 
opened  his  lips,  he  spoke  in  a  rich  bass  voice,  with  an  easy  flow  of 
language,  and  a  strict  attention  to  the  elocutionary  claims  of  words 
in  more  than  one  syllable.  Persuasion  distilled  from  his  mildly- 
curling  lips;  and,  shabby  as  he  was,  perennial  flowers  of  courtesy 
bloomed  all  over  him  from  head  to  foot. 

"  This  is  the  residence  of  Mr.  Vanstone,  I  believe  ?"  he  began, 
with  a  circular  wave  of  his  hand  in  the  direction  of  the  house. 
"Have  I  the  honor  of  addressing  a  member  of  Mr.  Vanstone's 
family  ?" 

"  Yes,"  said  the  plain-spoken  Miss  Garth.  "  You  are  addressing 
Mr.  Vanstone's  governess." 

The  persuasive  man  fell   back  a  step  —  admired  Mr.  Vanstone's 


26  NO   NAME. 

governess  —  advanced  a  step  again  —  and  continued  the  conversa- 
tion. 

"And  the  two  young  ladies,"  he  went  on,  "the  two  young  ladies 
who  were  walking  with  you  are  doubtless  Mr.  Vanstone's  daughters  ? 
I  recognized  the  darker  of  the  two,  and  the  elder  as  I  apprehend,  by 
her  likeness  to  her  handsome  mother.     The  younger  lady — " 

"  You  are  acquainted  with  Mrs.  Vanstone,  I  suppose  ?"  said  Miss 
Garth,  interrupting  the  stranger's  flow  of  language,  which,  all  things 
considered,  was  beginning,  in  her  opinion,  to  flow  rather  freely. 
The  stranger  acknowledged  the  interruption  by  one  of  his  polite 
bcws,  and  submerged  Miss  Garth  in  his  next  sentence  as  if  nothing 
had  happened. 

"  The  younger  lady,"  he  proceeded,  "  takes  after  her  father,  I  pre- 
sume ?  I  assure  you,  her  face  struck  me.  Looking  at  it  with  my 
friendly  interest  in  the  family,  I  thought  it  very  remarkable.  I  said 
to  myself — Charming,  Characteristic,  Memorable.  Not  like  her  sis- 
ter, not  like  her  mother.     No  doubt,  the  image  of  her  father  ?" 

Once  more  Miss  Garth  attempted  to  stem  the  man's  flow  of  words. 
It  was  plain  that  he  did  not  know  Mr.  Vanstone,  even  by  sight — 
otherwise  he  would  never  have  committed  the  error  of  supposing 
that  Magdalen  took  after  her  father.  Did  he  know  Mrs.  Vanstone 
any  better  ?  He  had  left  Miss  Garth's  question  on  that  point  unan- 
swered. In  the  name  of  wonder,  who  was  he  ?  Powers  of  impu- 
dence !  what  did  he  want  ? 

"  You  may  be  a  friend  of  the  family,  though  I  don't  remember 
your  face,"  said  Miss  Garth.  "  What  may  your  commands  be,  if 
you  please  ?     Did  you  come  here  to  pay  Mrs.  Vanstone  a  visit  ?" 

"  I  had  anticipated  the  pleasure  of  communicating  with  Mrs. 
Vanstone,"  answered  this  inveterately  evasive  and  inveterately  civil 
man.     "  How  is  she  ?" 

"Much  as  usual,"  said  Miss  Garth,  feeling  her  resources  of  polite- 
ness fast  failing  her. 

"  Is  she  at  home  ?" 

"  No." 

"  Out  for  long  ?" 

"  Gone  to  London  with  Mr.  Vanstone." 

The  man's  long  face  suddenly  grew  longer.  His  bilious  brown 
eye  looked  disconcerted,  and  his  bilious  green  eye  followed  its  ex- 
ample. His  manner  became  palpably  anxious;  and  his  choice  of 
words  was  more  carefully  selected  than  ever. 

"  Is  Mrs.  Vanstone's  absence  likely  to  extend  over  any  very 
lengthened  period  ?"  he  inquired. 

"  It  will  extend  over  three  weeks,"  replied  Miss  Garth.  "  I  think 
you  have  now  asked  me  questions  enough,"  she  went  on,  beginning 
to  let  her  temper  get  the  better  of  her  at  last.     "  Be  so  good,  if  you 


CAPTAIN    AVKAGGE.       POST-OFFICE,   BRISTOL. 


NO   NAME.  29 

please,  as  to  mention  your  business  and  your  name.  If  you  have  any 
message  to  leave  for  Mrs.  Yanstone,  I  shall  be  writing  to  her  by  to- 
night's post,  and  I  can  take  charge  of  it." 

"  A  thousand  thanks  !  A  most  valuable  suggestion.  Permit  me 
to  take  advantage  of  it  immediately." 

He  was  not  in  the  least  affected  by  the  severity  of  Miss  Garth's 
looks  and  language — he  was  simply  relieved  by  her  proposal,  and 
he  showed  it  with  the  most  engaging  sincerity.  This  time  his  bil- 
ious green  eye  took  the  initiative,  and  set  his  bilious  brown  eye  the 
example  of  recovered  serenity.  His  curling  lips  took  a  new  twist 
upward  ;  he  tucked  his  umbrella  briskly  under  his  arm ;  and  pro- 
duced from  the  breast  of  his  coat  a  large  old-fashioned  black  pocket- 
book.  From  this  he  took  a  ]Dencil  and  a  card— hesitated  and  con- 
sidered for  a  moment  —  wrote  rapidly  on  the  card  —  and  placed  it, 
with  the  politest  alacrity,  in  Miss  Garth's  hand. 

"  I  shall  feel  personally  obliged  if  you  will  honor  me  by  inclosing 
that  card  in  your  letter,''  he  said.  "  There  is  no  necessity  for  my 
troubling  you  additionally  with  a  message.  My  name  will  be  quite 
sufficient  to  recall  a  little  family  matter  to  Mrs.  Vanstone,  which  has 
no  doubt  escaped  her  memory.  Accept  my  best  thanks.  This  has 
been  a  day  of  agreeable  surprises  to  me.  I  have  found  the  coun- 
try hereabouts  remarkably  pretty ;  I  have  seen  Mrs.  Vanstone's  two 
charming  daughters;  I  have  become  acquainted  with  an  honored 
preceptress  in  Mr.  Vanstone's  family.  I  congratulate  myself — I 
apologize  for  occupying  your  valuable  time — I  beg  my  renewed  ac- 
knowledgments— I  wish  you  good-morning." 

He  raised  his  tall  hat.  His  brown  eye  twinkled,  his  green  eye 
twinkled,  his  curly  lips  smiled  sweetly.  In  a  moment,  he  turned  on 
his  heel.  His  youthful  back  appeared  to  the  best  advantage ;  his 
active  little  legs  took  him  away  trippingly  in  the  direction  of  the 
village.  One,  two,  three  —  and  he  reached  the  turn  in  the  road. 
Four,  five,  six — and  he  was  gone. 

Miss  Garth  looked  down  at  the  card  in  her  hand,  and  looked  up 
again  in  blank  astonishment.  The  name  and  address  of  the  clerical- 
looking  stranger  (both  written  in  pencil)  ran  as  follows : 

Captain  Wragge.     Post-office,  Bristol. 


30  NO    NAME. 


CHAPTER  III. 

When  she  returned  to  the  house,  Miss  Garth  made  no  attempt  to 
conceal  her  unfavorable  opinion  of  the  stranger  in  black.  His  ob- 
ject was,  no  doubt,  to  obtain  pecuniary  assistance  from  Mrs.  Van- 
stone.  What  the  nature  of  his  claim  on  her  might  be,  seemed  less 
intelligible — unless  it  was  the  claim  of  a  poor  relation.  Had  Mrs. 
Vanstone  ever  mentioned,  in  the  presence  of  her  daughters,  the 
name  of  Captain  Wragge?  Neither  of  them  recollected  to  have 
heard  it  before.  Had  Mrs.  Vanstone  ever  referred  to  any  poor  rela- 
tions who  were  dependent  on  her  ?  On  the  contrary,  she  had  men- 
tioned of  late  years  that  she  doubted  having  any  relations  at  all  who 
were  still  living.  And  yet  Captain  Wragge  had  plainly  declared 
that  the  name  on  his  card  would  recall  "a  family  matter  "to  Mrs. 
Vanstone's  memory.  What  did  it  mean  ?  A  false  statement,  on  the 
stranger's  part,  without  any  intelligible  reason  for  making  it  ?  Or 
a  second  mystery,  following  close  on  the  heels  of  the  mysterious 
journey  to  London  ? 

All  the  probabilities  seemed  to  point  to  some  hidden  connection 
between  the  "  family  affairs  "  which  had  taken  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Van- 
stone so  suddenly  from  home,  and  the  "  family  matter  "  associated 
with  the  name  of  Captain  Wragge.  Miss  Garth's  doubts  thronged 
back  irresistibly  on  her  mind,  u3  she  sealed  her  letter  to  Mrs.  Van- 
stone, with  the  captain's  card  added  by  way  of  inclosure. 

By  return  of  post  the  answer  arrived. 

Always  the  earliest  riser  among  the  laches  of  the  house,  Miss 
Garth  was  alone  in  the  breakfast-room  when  the  letter  was  brought 
in.  Her  first  glance  at  its  contents  convinced  her  of  the  necessity 
of  reading  it  carefully  through  in  retirement,  before  any  embarrass- 
ing questions  could  be  put  to  her.  Leaving  a  message  with  the 
servant  requesting  Norah  to  make  the  tea  that  morning,  she  went 
up  stairs  at  once  to  the  solitude  and  security  of  her  own  room. 

Mrs.  Vanstone's  letter  extended  to  some  length.  The  first  part  of 
it  referred  to  Captain  Wragge,  and  entered  unreservedly  into  all 
necessary  explanations  relating  to  the  man  himself  and  to  the  mo- 
tive which  had  brought  him  to  Combe-Raven. 

It  appeared  from  Mrs.  Vanstone's  statement  that  her  mother  had 
been  twice  married.  Her  mother's  first  husband  had  been  a  certain 
Doctor  Wragge — a  widower  with  young  children ;  and  one  of  those 
children  was  now  the  unmilitary-looking  captain,  whose  address  was 


NO   NAME.  31 

'<  Post-office,  Bristol."  Mrs.  Wragge  had  left  no  family  by  her  first 
husband ;  and  had  afterward  married  Mrs.  Vanstone's  father.  Of 
that  second  marriage  Mrs.  Vanstone  herself  was  the  only  issue.  She 
had  lost  both  her  parents  while  she  was  still  a  young  woman ;  and, 
in  course  of  years,  her  mother's  family  connections  (who  were  then 
her  nearest  surviving  relatives)  had  been  one  after  another  removed 
by  death.  She  was  left,  at  the  present  writing,  without  a  relation 
in  the  world — excepting  perhaps  certain  cousins  whom  she  had 
never  seen,  and  of  whose  existence  even,  at  the  present  moment, 
she  possessed  no  positive  knowledge. 

Under  these  circumstances,  what  family  claim  had  Captain  Wragge 
on  Mrs.  Vanstone  ? 

None  whatever.  As  the  son  of  her  mother's  first  husband,  by  that 
husband's  first  wife,  not  even  the  widest  stretch  of  courtesy  could 
have  included  him  at  any  time  in  the  list  of  Mrs.  Vanstone's  most 
distant  relations.  Well  knowing  this  (the  letter  proceeded  to  say), 
he  had  nevertheless  persisted  in  forcing  himself  upon  her  as  a  spe- 
cies of  family  connection ;  and  she  had  weakly  sanctioned  the  in- 
trusion, solely  from  the  dread  that  he  would  otherwise  introduce 
himself  to  Mr.  Vanstone's  notice,  and  take  unblushing  advantage  of 
Mr.  Vanstone's  generosity.  Shrinking,  naturally,  from  allowing  her 
husband  to  be  annoyed,  and  probably  cheated  as  well,  by  any  per- 
son who  claimed,  however  preposterously,  a  family  connection  with 
herself,  it  had  been  her  practice,  for  many  years  past,  to  assist  the 
captain  from  her  own  purse,  on  the  condition  that  he  should  never 
come  near  the  house,  and  that  he  should  not  presume  to  make  any 
application  whatever  to  Mr.  Vanstone. 

Eeadily  admitting  the  imprudence  of  this  course,  Mrs.  Vanstone 
further  explained  that  she  had  perhaps  been  the  more  inclined  to 
adopt  it,  through  having  been  always  accustomed,  in  her  early  days, 
to  see  the  captain  living  now  upon  one  member,  and  now  upon  an- 
other, of  her  mother's  family.  Possessed  of  abilities  which  might 
have  raised  him  to  distinction,  in  almost  any  career  that  he  could 
have  chosen,  he  had  nevertheless,  from  his  youth  upward,  been  a 
disgrace  to  all  his  relatives.  He  had  been  expelled  the  militia  regi- 
ment in  which  he  once  held  a  commission.  He  had  tried  one  em- 
ployment after  another,  and  had  discreditably  failed  in  all.  He  had 
lived  on  his  wits,  in  the  lowest  and  basest  meaning  of  the  phrase. 
He  had  married  a  poor  ignorant  woman,  who  had  served  as  a  wait- 
ress at  some  low  eating-house,  who  had  unexpectedly  come  into  a 
little  money,  and  whose  small  inheritance  he  had  mercilessly  squan- 
dered to  the  last  farthing.  In  plain  terms,  he  was  an  incorrigible 
scoundrel ;  and  he  had  now  added  one  more  to  the  list  of  his  many 
misdemeanors,  by  impudently  breaking  the  conditions  on  which 
Mrs.  Vanstone  had  hitherto  assisted  him.     She  had  written  at  once 


32  NO    NAME. 

to  the  address  indicated  on  his  card,  in  such  terms  and  to  such  pur- 
pose as  would  prevent  him,  she  hoped  and  believed,  from  ever  ven- 
turing near  the  house  again.  Such  were  the  terms  in  which  Mrs. 
Vanstone  concluded  that  first  part  of  her  letter  which  referred  ex- 
clusively to  Captain  Wragge. 

Although  the  statement  thus  presented  implied  a  weakness  in 
Mrs.  Vanstone's  character  which  Miss  Garth,  after  many  years  of  in- 
timate experience,  had  never  detected,  she  accepted  the  explanation 
as  a  matter  of  course ;  receiving  it  all  the  more  readily,  inasmuch  as 
it  might,  without  impropriety,  be  communicated  in  substance  to  ap- 
pease the  irritated  curiosity  of  the  two  young  ladies.  For  this  rea- 
son especially,  she  perused  the  first  half  of  the  letter  with  an  agree- 
able sense  of  relief.  Far  different  was  the  impression  produced  on 
her,  when  she  advanced  to  the  second  half,  and  when  she  had  read 
it  to  the  end. 

The  second  part  of  the  letter  was  devoted  to  the  subject  of  the 
journey  to  London. 

Mrs.  Vanstone  began  by  referring  to  the  long  and  intimate  friend- 
ship which  had  existed  between  Miss  Garth  and  herself  She  now 
felt  it  due  to  that  friendship  to  explain  confidentially  the  motive 
which  had  induced  her  to  leave  home  with  her  husband.  Miss 
Garth  had  delicately  refrained  frorn  showing  it,  but  she  must  natu- 
rally have  felt,  and  must  still  be  feeling,  great  surprise  at  the  mys- 
tery in  which  their  departure  had  been  involved  ;  and  she  must 
doubtless  have  asked  herself  why  Mrs.  Vanstone  should  have  been 
associated  with  family  affairs  which  (in  her  independent  position  as 
to  relatives)  must  necessarily  concern  Mr.  Vanstone  alone. 

Without  touching  on  those  affairs,  which  it  was  neither  desirable 
nor  necessary  to  do,  Mrs.  Vanstone  then  proceeded  to  say  that  she 
would  at  once  set  all  Miss  Garth's  doubts  at  rest,  so  far  as  they  re- 
lated to  herself,  by  one  plain  acknowledgment.  Her  object  in  ac- 
companying her  husband  to  London  was  to  see  a  certain  celebrated 
physician,  and  to  consult  him  privately  on  a  very  delicate  and  anx- 
ious matter  connected  with  the  state  of  her  health.  In  plainer 
terms  still,  this  anxious  matter  meant  nothing  less  than  the  possibil- 
ity that  she  might  again  become  a  mother. 

When  the  doubt  had  first  suggested  itself,  she  had  treated  it  as  a 
mere  delusion.  The  long  interval  that  had  elapsed  since  the  birth 
of  her  last  child  ;  the  serious  illness  which  had  afflicted  her  after 
the  death  of  that  child  in  infancy ;  the  time  of  life  at  which  she  had 
now  arrived — all  inclined  her  to  dismiss  the  idea  as  soon  as  it  arose 
in  her  mind.  It  had  returned  ate  ;n  and  again  in  spite  of  her.  She 
had  felt  the  necessity  of  consulting  the  highest  medical  authority; 
and  had  shrunk,  at  the  same  time,  from  alarming  her  daughters,  by 
summoning  a  London  physician  to  the  house.     The  medical  opiuien, 


NO    NAME.  3b 

nought  under  the  circumstances  already  mentioned,  had  now  been 
obtained.  Her  doubt  was  confirmed  as  a  certainty  ;  and  the  result, 
which  might  be  expected  to  take  place  toward  the  end  of  the  sum- 
mer, was,  at  her  age  and  with  her  constitutional  peculiarities,  a  sub- 
ject for  serious  future  anxiety,  to  say  the  least  of  it.  The  physician 
had  done  his  best  to  encourage  her;  but  she  had  understood  the 
shift  of  his  questions  more  clearly  than  he  supposed,  and  she  knew 
that  he  looked  to  the  future  with  more  than  ordinary  doubt. 

Having  disclosed  these  particulars,  Mrs.  Vanstone  requested  that 
they  might  be  kept  a  secret  between  her  correspondent  and  herself. 
She  had  felt  unwilling  to  mention  her  suspicions  to  Miss  Garth,  un- 
til those  suspicions  had  been  confirmed — and  she  now  recoiled,  with 
even  greater  reluctance,  from  allowing  her  daughters  to  be  in  any 
way  alarmed  about  her.  It  would  be  best  to  dismiss  the  subject  for 
the  present,  and  to  wait  hopefully  till  the  summer  came.  In  the 
mean  time  they  would  all,  she  trusted,  be  happily  reunited  on  the 
twenty-third  of  the  month,  which  Mr.  Vanstone  had  fixed  on  as  the 
day  for  their  return.  With  this  intimation,  and  with  the  customary 
messages,  the  letter,  abruptly  and  confusedly,  came  to  an  end. 

For  the  first  few  minutes,  a  natural  sympathy  for  Mrs.  Vanstone 
was  the  only  feeling  of  which  Miss  Garth  was  conscious  after  she 
lad  laid  the  letter  down.  Ere  long,  however,  there  rose  obscurely 
m  her  mind  a  doubt  which  perplexed  and  distressed  her.  Was  the 
explanation  which  she  had  just  read  really  as  satisfactory  and  a.<* 
complete  as  it  professed  to  be  ?  Testing  it  plainly  by  facts,  surely 
aot. 

On  the  morning  of  her  departure,  Mrs.  Vanstone  had  unquestion- 
ably left  the  house  in  good  spirits.  At  her  age,  and  in  her  state  of 
health,  were  good  spirits  compatible  with  such  an  errand  to  a  physi- 
cian as  the  errand  on  which  she  was  bent  ?  Then,  again,  had  that 
'etter  from  New  Orleans,  which  had  necessitated  Mr.  Vanstone's  de- 
parture, no  share  in  occasioning  his  wife*s  departure  as  well  ?  Why, 
otherwise,  had  she  looked  up  so  eagerly  the  moment  her  daughter 
mentioned  the  post -mark.  Granting  the  avowed  motive  for  her 
journey — did  not  her  manner,  on  the  morning  when  the  letter  was 
)pened,  and  again  on  the  morning  of  departure,  suggest  the  exist- 
ence of  some  other  motive  which  her  letter  kept  concealed  ? 

If  it  was  so,  the  conclusion  that  followed  was  a  very  distressing 
one.  Mrs.  Vanstone,  feeling  what  was  due  to  her  long  friendship 
with  Miss  Garth,  had  apparently  placed  the  fullest  confidence  in 
her,  on  one  subject,  by  way  of  unsuspiciously  maintaining  the  strict- 
est reserve  toward  her  on  another.  Naturally  frank  and  straight- 
forward in  all  her  own  dealings,  Miss  Garth  shrank  from  plainly 
pursuing  her  doubts  to  this  result:  a  want  of  loyalty  toward  her 


34  NO   NAME. 

tried  and  valued  friend  seemed  implied  in  the  mere  dawning  of  it 
on  her  mind. 

She  locked  up  the  letter  in  her  desk ;  roused  herself  resolutely  to 
attend  to  the  passing  interests  of  the  day  ;  and  went  down  stairs 
again  to  the  breakfast  -  room.  Amidst  many  uncertainties,  this  at 
least  was  clear,  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Vanstone  were  coming  back  on  the 
twenty-third  of  the  month.  Who  could  say  what  new  revelations 
might  not  come  back  with  them  ? 


CHAPTER  IV. 

No  new  revelations  came  back  with  them :  no  anticipations  asso- 
ciated with  their  return  were  realized.  On  the  one  forbidden  sub- 
ject of  their  errand  in  London,  there  was  no  moving  either  the  mas- 
ter or  the  mistress  of  the  house.  Whatever  their  object  might  have 
been,  they  had  to  all  appearance  successfully  accomplished  it — for 
they  both  returned  in  perfect  possession  of  their  every-day  looks 
and  manners.  Mrs.  Vanstone's  spirits  had  subsided  to  their  natural 
quiet  level ;  Mr.  Vanstone's  imperturbable  cheerfulness  sat  as  easily 
and  indolently  on  him  as  usual.  This  was  the  one  noticeable  result 
of  their  journey — this,  and  no  more.  Had  the  household  revolution 
run  its  course  already  ?  Was  the  secret  thus  far  hidden  impenetra- 
bly, hidden  forever  ? 

Nothing  in  this  world  is  hidden  forever.  The  gold  which  has 
lain  for  centuries  unsuspected  in  the  ground,  reveals  itself  one  day 
on  the  surface.  Sand  turns  traitor,  and  betrays  the  footstep  that 
has  passed  over  it;  water  gives  back  to  the  tell-tale  surface  the 
body  that  has  been  drowned.  Fire  itself  leaves  the  confession,  in 
ashes,  of  the  substance  consumed  in  it.  Hate  breaks  its  prison-se- 
crecy in  the  thoughts,  through  the  door-way  of  the  eyes ;  and  Love 
finds  the  Judas  who  betrays  it  by  a  kiss.  Look  where  we  will,  the 
inevitable  law  of  revelation  is  one  of  the  laws  of  nature :  the  last- 
ing preservation  of  a  secret  is  a  miracle  which  the  world  has  never 
yet  seen. 

How  was  the  secret  now  hidden  in  the  household  at  Combe- 
Raven  doomed  to  disclose  itself?  Through  what  coming  event  in 
the  daily  lives  of  the  father,  the  mother,  and  the  daughters,  was 
the  law  of  revelation  destined  to  break  the  fatal  way  to  discovery  ? 
The  way  opened  (unseen  by  the  parents,  and  unsuspected  by  the 
children)  through  the  first  event  that  happened  after  Mr.  and  Mrs. 
Vanstone's  return — an  event  which  presented,  on  the  surface  of  it. 
no  interest  of  greater  importance  than  the  trivial  social  ceremony  of 
a  morning  call. 


NO   NAME.  35 

Three  rtays  after  the  master  and  mistress  of  Combe-Raven  had 
come  b.°Aik,  the  female  members  of  the  family  happened  to  be  as- 
sembled together  in  the  morning-room.  The  view  from  the  win- 
dows ooked  over  the  flower-garden  and  shrubbery;  this  last  being 
protected  at  its  outward  extremity  by  a  fence,  and  approached  from 
the  lane  beyond  by  a  wicket-gate.  During  an  interval  in  the  con- 
versation, the  attention  of  the  ladies  was  suddenly  attracted  to  this 
gate,  by  the  sharp  sound  of  the  iron  latch  falling  in  its  socket. 
Some  one  had  entered  the  shrubbery  from  the  lane ;  and  Magdalen 
at  once  placed  herself  at  the  window  to  catch  the  first  sight  of  the 
visitor  through  the  trees. 

After  a  few  minutes,  the  figure  of  a  gentleman  became  visible,  at 
the  point  where  the  shrubbery  path  joined  the  winding  garden-walk 
which  led  to  the  house.  Magdalen  looked  at  him  attentively^  with- 
out appearing,  at  first,  to  know  who  he  was.  As  he  came  nearer, 
however,  she  started  in  astonishment ;  and  turning  quickly  to  her 
mother  and  sister,  proclaimed  the  gentleman  in  the  garden  to  be  no 
other  than  "  Mr.  Francis  Clare." 

The  visitor  thus  announced  was  the  son  of  Mr.  Vanstone's  oldest 
associate  and  nearest  neighbor. 

Mr.  Clare  the  elder  inhabited  an  unpretending  little  cottage,  sit- 
uated just  outside  the  shrubbery  fence  which  marked  the  limit  of 
the  Combe-Raven  grounds.  Belonging  to  the  younger  branch  of  a 
family  of  great  antiquity,  the  one  inheritance  of  importance  that  he 
had  derived  from  his  ancestors,  was  the  possession  of  a  magnificent 
library,  which  not  only  filled  all  the  rooms  in  his  modest  little 
dwelling,  but  lined  the  staircases  and  passages  as  well.  Mr.  Clare's 
books  represented  the  one  important  interest  of  Mr.  Clare's  life. 
He  had  been  a  widower  for  many  years  past,  and  made  no  secret  of 
his  philosophical  resignation  to  the  loss  of  his  wife.  As  a  father,  he 
regarded  his  family  of  three  sons  in  the  light  of  a  necessary  domes- 
tic evil,  which  perpetually  threatened  the  sanctity  of  his  study  and 
the  safety  of  his  books.  When  the  boys  went  to  school,  Mr.  Clare 
said  "  good-bye  "  to  them — and  "  thank  God  "  to  himself.  As  for 
his  small  income,  and  his  still  smaller  domestic  establishment,  he 
looked  at  them  both  from  the  same  satirically  indifferent  point  of 
view.  He  called  himself  a  pauper  with  a  pedigree.  He  abandoned 
the  entire  direction  of  his  household  to  the  slatternly  old  woman 
who  was  his  only  servant,  on  the  condition  that  she  was  never  to 
venture  near  his  books,  with  a  duster  in  her  hand,  from  one  year's 
end  to  the  other.  His  favorite  poets  were  Horace  and  Pope;  his 
chosen  philosophers,  Hobbes  and  Voltaire.  He  took  his  exercise  and 
his  fresh  air  under  protest ;  and  always  walked  the  same  distance 
to  a  yard,  on  the  ugliest  high-road  in  the  neighborhood.  He  was 
crooked  of  'back,  and  quick  of  temper.     He  could  digest  radishes 


86  NO   NAME. 

and  sleep  after  green  tea.  His  views  of  human  nature  were  the 
views  of  Diogenes,  tempered  by  Rochefoucault ;  his  personal  habits 
were  slovenly  in  the  last  degree  ;  and  his  favorite  boast  was  that  he 
had  outlived  all  human  prejudices. 

Such  was  this  singular  man,  in  his  more  superficial  aspects.  What 
nobler  qualities  he  might  possess  below  the  surface,  no  one  had 
ever  discovered.  Mr.  Vanstone,  it  is  true,  stoutly  asserted  that  l<  Mr. 
Clare's  worst  side  was  his  outside  " — but  in  this  expression  of  opin- 
ion he  stood  alone  among  his  neighbors.  The  association  between 
these  two  widely-dissimilar  men  had  lasted  for  many  years,  and  was 
almost  close  enough  to  be  called  a  friendship.  They  had  acquired 
a  habit  of  meeting  to  smoke  together  on  certain  evenings  in  the 
week,  in  the  cynic- philosopher's  study,  and  of  there  disputing  on 
every  imaginable  subject — Mr.  Vanstone  flourishing  the  stout  cud- 
gels of  assertion,  and  Mr.  Clare  meeting  him  with  the  keen  edged- 
tools  of  sophistry.  They  generally  quarreled  at  night,  and  met  on 
the  neutral  ground  of  the  shrubbery  to  be  reconciled  together  the 
next  morning.  The  bond  of  intercourse  thus  curiously  established 
between  them  was  strengthened  on  Mr.  Vanstone's  side  by  a  hearty 
interest  in  his  neighbor's  three  sons — an  interest  by  which  those 
sons  benefited  all  the  more  importantly,  seeing  that  one  of  the  preju- 
dices which  their  father  had  outlived  was  a  prejudice  in  favor  of 
his  own  children. 

"  I  look  at  those  boys,"  the  philosopher  was  accustomed  to  say, 
"  with  a  perfectly  impartial  eye ;  I  dismiss  the  unimportant  accident 
of  their  birth  from  all  consideration ;  and  I  find  them  below  the 
average  in  every  respect.  The  only  excuse  which  a  poor  gentleman 
has  for  presuming  to  exist  in  the  nineteenth  century,  is  the  excuse 
of  extraordinary  ability.  My  boys  have  been  addle-headed  from 
infancy.  If  I  had  any  capital  to  give  them,  I  should  make  Frank 
a  butcher,  Cecil  a  baker,  and  Arthur  a  grocer — those  being  the  only 
human  vocations  I  know  of  which  are  certain  to  be  always  hi  re- 
quest. As  it  is,  I  have  no  money  to  help  them  with ;  and  they  have 
no  brains  to  help  themselves.  They  appear  to  me  to  be  three  human 
superfluities  in  dirty  jackets  and  noisy  boots ;  and,  unless  they  clear 
themselves  off"  the  community  by  running  away,  I  don't  myself  pro- 
fess to  see  what  is  to  be  done  with  them." 

Fortunately  for  the  boys,  Mr.  Vanstone's  views  were  still  fast  im- 
prisoned in  the  ordinary  prejudices.  At  his  intercession,  and  through 
his  influence,  Frank,  Cecil,  and  Arthur  were  received  on  the  foun- 
dation of  a  well-reputed  grammar-school.  In  holiday-time  they 
were  mercifully  allowed  the  run  of  Mr.  Vanstone's  paddock ;  and 
were  humanized  and  refined  by  association,  indoors,  with  Mrs.  Van- 
stone and  her  daughters.  On  these  occasions,  Mr.  Clare  used  seme- 
times  to  walk  across  from  his  cottage  (in  his  dressing-gown  and 


NO    NAME.  37 

slippers),  and  look  at  the  boys  disparagingly,  through  the  window 
or  over  the  fence,  as  if  they  were  three  wild  animals  whom  his  neigh- 
bor was  attempting  to  tame.  "You  and  your  wife  are  excellent 
people,"  he  used  to  say  to  Mr.  Vanstone.  "  I  respect  your  honest 
prejudices  in  favor  of  those  boys  of  mine  with  all  my  heart.  But 
you  are  so  wrong  about  them — you  are  indeed !  I  wish  to  give  no 
offense ;  I  speak  quite  impartially — but  mark  my  words,  Vanstone : 
they'll  all  three  turn  out  ill,  in  spite  of  every  thing  you  can  do  to 
prevent  it." 

In  later  years,  when  Frank  had  reached  the  age  of  seventeen,  the 
same  curious  shifting  of  the  relative  positions  of  parent  and  friend 
between  the  two  neighbors  was  exemplified  more  absurdly  than 
ever.  A  civil  engineer  in  the  north  of  England,  who  owed  certain 
obligations  to  Mr.  Vanstone,  expressed  his  willingness  to  take  Frank 
under  superintendence,  on  terms  of  the  most  favorable  kind.  When 
this  proposal  was  received,  Mr.  Clare,  as  usual,  first  shifted  his  own 
character  as  Frank's  father  on  Mr.  Vanstone's  shoulders — and  then 
moderated  his  neighbor's  parental  enthusiasm  from  the  point  of 
view  of  an  impartial  spectator. 

"  It's  the  finest  chance  for  Frank  that  could  possibly  have  hap- 
pened," cried  Mr.  Vanstone,  in  a  glow  of  fatherly  enthusiasm. 

"  My  good  fellow,  he  won't  take  it,"  retorted  Mr.  Clare,  with  the 
icy  composure  of  a  disinterested  friend. 

"  But  he  shall  take  it,"  persisted  Mr.  Vanstone. 

"  Say  he  shall  have  a  mathematical  head,"  rejoined  Mr.  Clare ; 
"  say  he  shall  possess  industry,  ambition,  and  firmness  of  purpose. 
Pooh !  pooh  !  you  don't  look  at  him  with  my  impartial  eyes.  I  say, 
No  mathematics,  no  industry,  no  ambition,  no  firmness  of  purpose. 
Frank  is  a  compound  of  negatives — and  there  they  are." 

"  Hang  your  negatives !"  shouted  Mr.  Vanstone.  "  I  don't  care  a 
rush  for  negatives,  or  affirmatives  either.  Frank  shall  have  this 
splendid  chance ;  and  I'll  lay  you  any  wager  you  like  he  makes  the 
best  of  it." 

"  I  am  not  rich  enough  to  lay  wagers,  usually,"  replied  Mr.  Clare ; 
"  but  I  think  I  have  got  a  guinea  about  the  house  somewhere ;  and 
I'll  lay  you  that  guinea  Frank  comes  back  on  our  hands  like  a  bad 
shilling." 

"  Done !"  said  Mr.  Vanstone.  "  No :  stop  a  minute  !  I  won't  do 
the  lad's  character  the  injustice  of  backing  it  at  even  money.  I'll 
lay  you  five  to  one  Frank  turns  up  trumps  in  this  business!  You 
ought  to  be  ashamed  of  yourself  for  talking  of  him  as  you  do.  What 
sort  of  hocus-pocus  you  bring  it  about  by,  I  don't  pretend  to  know ; 
but  you  always  end  in  making  me  take  his  part,  as  if  I  was  his  father 
instead  of  you.  Ah  yes  !  give  you  time,  and  you'll  defend  yourself. 
I  won't  give  you  time;  I  won't  have  any  of  your  special  pleading. 


38  NO   NAME. 

Black's  white  according  to  you.  I  don't  care :  ita  black  for  all  that. 
You  may  talk  nineteen  to  the  dozen — I  shall  write  to  my  friend  and 
say  Yes,  in  Frank's  interests,  by  to-day's  post." 

"  Such  were  the  circumstances  under  which  Mr.  Francis  Clare  de- 
parted for  the  north  of  England,  at  the  age  of  seventeen,  to  start  in 
life  as  a  civil  engineer. 

From  time  to  time,  Mr.  Vanstone's  friend  communicated  with  him 
on  the  subject  of  the  new  pupil.  Frank  was  praised,  as  a  quiet,  gen- 
tleman-like, interesting  lad — but  he  was  also  reported  to  be  rather 
slow  at  acquiring  the  rudiments  of  engineering  science.  Other  let- 
ters, later  in  date,  described  him  as  a  little  too  ready  to  despond 
about  himself;  as  having  been  sent  away  on  that  account,  to  some 
new  railway  works,  to  see  if  change  of  scene  would  rouse  him ;  and 
as  having  benefited  in  every  respect  by  the  experiment — except  per- 
haps in  regard  to  his  professional  studies,  which  still  advanced  but 
slowly.  Subsequent  communications  announced  his  departure,  un- 
der care  of  a  trustworthy  foreman,  for  some  public  works  in  Belgium ; 
touched  on  the  general  benefit  he  appeared  to  derive  from  this  new 
change ;  praised  his  excellent  manners  and  address,  which  were  of 
great  assistance  in  facilitating  business  communications  with  the 
foreigners — and  passed  over  in  ominous  silence  the  main  question 
of  his  actual  progress  in  the  acquirement  of  knowledge.  These  re- 
ports, and  many  others  which  resembled  them,  were  all  conscien- 
tiously presented  by  Frank's  friend  to  the  attention  of  Frank's  fa- 
ther. On  each  occasion,  Mr.  Clare  exulted  over  Mr.  Vanstone ;  and 
Mr.  Vanstone  quarreled  with  Mr.  Clare.  "  One  of  these  days  you'll 
wish  you  hadn't  laid  that  wager,"  said  the  cynic  philosopher.  "  One 
of  these  days  I  shall  have  the  blessed  satisfaction  of  pocketing  your 
guinea,"  cried  the  sanguine  friend.  Two  years  had  then  passed 
since  Frank's  departure.  In  one  year  more  results  asserted  them- 
selves, and  settled  the  question. 

Two  days  after  Mr.  Vanstone's  return  from  London,  he  was  called 
away  from  the  breakfast-table  before  he  had  found  time  enough  to 
look  over  his  letters,  delivered  by  the  morning's  post.  Thrusting 
them  into  one  of  the  pockets  of  his  shooting-jacket,  he  took  the  let- 
ters out  again,  at  one  grasp,  to  read  them  when  occasion  served, 
later  in  the  day.  The  grasp  included  the  whole  correspondence, 
with  one  exception — that  exception  being  a  final  report  from  the 
civil  engineer,  which  notified  the  termination  of  the  connection  be- 
tweed  his  pupil  and  himself,  and  the  immediate  return  of  Frank  to 
his  father's  house. 

While  this  important  announcement  lay  unsuspected  in  Mr.  Van- 
stone's  pocket,  the  object  of  it  was  traveling  home,  as  fast  as  rail- 
ways could  take  him.  At  half-past  ten  at  night,  while  Mr.  Clare 
was  sitting  in  studious  solitude  over  his  books  and  his  green  tea, 


NO   NAME.  39 

with  his  favorite  black  cat  to  keep  him  company,  he  heard  footsteps 
in  the  passage — the  door  opened — and  Frank  stood  before  him. 

Ordinary  men  would  have  been  astonished.  But  the  philosopher's 
composure  was  not  to  be  shaken  by  any  such  trifle  as  the  unexpected 
return  of  his  eldest  son.  He  could  not  have  looked  up  more  calmly 
from  his  learned  volume,  if  Frank  had  been  absent  for  three  minutes 
instead  of  three  years. 

"Exactly  what  I  predicted,"  said  Mr.  Clare.  "Don't  interrupt 
me  by  making  explanations ;  and  don't  frighten  the  cat.  If  there 
is  any  thing  to  eat  in  the  kitchen,  get  it  and  go  to  bed.  You  can 
walk  over  to  Combe-Raven  to-morrow,  and  give  this  message  from 
me  to  Mr.  Vanstone :  '  Father's  compliments,  sir,  and  I  have  come 
back  upon  your  hands  like  a  bad  shilling,  as  he  always  said  I  should. 
He  keeps  his  own  guinea,  and  takes  your  five ;  and  he  hopes  you'll 
mind  what  he  says  to  you  another  time.'  That  is  the  message.  Shut 
the  door  after  you.     Good-night." 

"  Under  these  unfavorable  auspices,  Mr.  Francis  Clare  made  his 
appearance  the  next  morning  in  the  grounds  at  Combe-Raven ;  and, 
something  doubtful  of  the  reception  that  might  await  him,  slowly 
approached  the  precincts  of  the  house. 

It  was  not  wonderful  that  Magdalen  should  have  failed  to  recog- 
nize him  when  he  first  appeared  in  view.  He  had  gone  away  a 
backward  lad  of  seventeen ;  he  returned  a  young  man  of  twenty. 
His  slim  figure  had  now  acquired  strength  and  grace,  and  had  in- 
creased in  stature  to  the  medium  height.  The  small  regular  fea- 
tures, which  he  was  supposed  to  have  inherited  from  his  mother,  were 
rounded  and  filled  out,  without  having  lost  their  remarkable  deli- 
cacy of  form.  His  beard  was  still  in  its  infancy ;  arid  nascent  lines 
of  whisker  traced  their  modest  w7ay  sparely  down  his  cheeks.  His 
gentle  wandering  brown  eyes  would  have  looked  to  better  advan- 
tage in  a  woman's  face — they  wanted  spirit  and  firmness  to  fit  them 
for  the  face  of  a  man.  His  hands  had  the  same  wandering  habit  as 
his  eyes ;  they  were  constantly  changing  from  one  position  to  an- 
other, constantly  twisting  and  turning  any  little  stray  thing  they 
could  pick  up.  He  was  undeniably  handsome,  graceful,  well-bred 
— but  no  close  observer  could  look  at  him,  without  suspecting  that 
the  stout  old  family  stock  had  begun  to  wear  out  in  the  later  gen- 
erations, and  that  Mr.  Francis  Clare  had  more  in  him  of  the  shadow 
of  his  ancestors  than  of  the  substance. 

When  the  astonishment  caused  by  his  appearance  had  partially 
subsided,  a  search  was  instituted  for  the  missing  report.  It  was 
found  in  the  remotest  recesses  of  Mr.  Vanstone's  capacious  pocket, 
and  was  read  by  that  gentleman  on  the  spot. 

The  plain  facts,  as  stated  by  the  engineer,  were  briefly  these. 
Frank  was  not  possessed  of  the  necessary  abilities  to  fit  him  for  his 


40  NO   NAME. 

new  culling;  and  it  was  useless  to  waste  time,  by  keeping  him  any 
longer  in  an  employment  for  which  he  had  no  vocation.  This,  after 
three  years'  trial,  being  the  conviction  on  both  sides,  the  master  had 
thought  it  the  most  straightforward  course  for  the  pupil  to  go  home, 
and  candidly  place  results  before  his  father  and  his  friends.  In 
some  other  pursuit,  for  which  he  was  more  fit,  and  in  which  he  could 
feel  an  interest,  he  would  no  doubt  display  the  industry  and  perse- 
verance which  he  had  been  too  much  discouraged  to  practice  in  the 
profession  that  he  had  now  abandoned.  Personally,  he  was  liked 
by  all  who  knew  him ;  and  his  future  prosperity  was  heartily  desired 
by  the  many  friends  whom  he  had  made  in  the  North.  Such  was 
the  substance  of  the  report,  and  so  it  came  to  an  end. 

Many  men  would  have  thought  the  engineer's  statement  rather 
too  carefully  worded ;  and,  suspecting  him  of  trying  to  make  the 
best  of  a  bad  case,  would  have  entertained  serious  doubts  on  the 
subject  of  Frank's  future.  Mr.  Vanstone  was  too  easy-tempered  and 
sanguine — and  too  anxious  as  well,  not  to  yield  his  old  antagonist 
an  inch  more  ground  than  he  could  help — to  look  at  the  letter  from 
any  such  unfavorable  point  of  view.  Was  it  Frank's  fault  it  he  had 
not  got  the  stuff"  in  him  that  engineers  were  made  of?  Did  no  other 
young  men  ever  begin  life  with  a  false  start  ?  Plenty  began  in  that 
way,  and  got  over  it,  and  did  wonders  afterward.  With  these  com- 
mentaries on  the  letter,  the  kind-hearted  gentleman  patted  Frank  on 
the  shoulder.  "  Cheer  up,  my  lad  !"  said  Mr.  Vanstone.  "  We  will 
be  even  with  your  father  one  of  these  days,  though  he  has  won  the 
wager  this  time !" 

The  example  thus  set  by  the  master  of  the  house  was  followed 
at  once  by  the'family — with  the  solitary  exception  of  Norah,  whose 
incurable  formality  and  reserve  expressed  themselves,  not  too  gra- 
ciously, in  her  distant  manner  toward  the  visitor.  The  rest,  led  by 
Magdalen  (who  had  been  Frank's  favorite  playfellow  in  past  times) 
glided  back  into  their  old  easy  habits  with  him,  without  an  effort. 
He  was  "Frank"  with  all  of  them  but  Norah,  who  persisted  in  ad- 
dressing him  as  "Mr.  Clare."  Even  the  account  he  was  now  en- 
couraged to  give  of  the  reception  accorded  to  him  by  his  father, 
on  the  previous  night,  failed  to  disturb  Norah's  gravity.  She  sat 
with  her  dark  handsome  face  steadily  averted,  her  eyes  cast  down, 
and  the  rich  color  in  her  cheeks  warmer  and  deeper  than  usual. 
All  the  rest,  Miss  Garth  included,  found  old  Mr.  Clare's  speech  of 
welcome  to  his  son  quite  irresistible.  The  noise  and  merriment 
were  at  their  height,  when  the  servant  came  in,  and  struck  the 
whole  party  dumb  by  the  announcement  of  visitors  in  the  drawing- 
room.  "  Mr.  Marrable,  Mrs.  Marrable,  and  Miss  Marrable ;  Evergreen 
Lodge,  Clifton." 

Norah  rose  as  readily  as  if  the  new  arrivals  had  been  a  relief  to 


NO    NAME.  4] 

lier  mind.  Mrs.  Vanstone  was  the  next  to  leave  her  chair.  These 
two  went  away  first,  to  receive  the  visitors.  Magdalen,  who  pre- 
ferred the  society  of  her  father  and  Frank,  pleader]  hard  to  be  left 
behind ;  but  Miss  Garth,  after  granting  five  minutes'  grace,  took  her 
into  custody,  and  marched  her  out  of  the  room.  Frank  rose  to  take 
his  leave. 

"  No,  no,"  said  Mr.  Vanstone,  detaining  him.  "  Don't  go.  These 
people  won't  stop  long.  Mr.  Marrable's  a  merchant  at  Bristol.  I've 
met  him  once  or  twice,  when  the  girls  forced  me  to  take  them  to 
parties  at  Clifton.  Mere  acquaintances,  nothing  more.  Come  and 
smoke  a  cigar  in  the  greenhouse.  Hang  all  visitors- -they  worry 
one's  life  out.  I'll  appear  at  the  last  moment  with  an  apology ;  and 
you  shall  follow  me  at  a  safe  distance,  and  be  a  proof  that  I  was 
really  engaged." 

Proposing  this  ingenious  stratagem,  in  a  confidential  whisjier, 
Mr.  Vanstone  took  Frank's  arm,  and  led  him  round  the  house  by 
the  back  way.  The  first  ten  minutes  of  seclusion  in  the  conserva- 
tory passed  without  events  of  any  kind.  At  the  end  of  that  time, 
a  flying  figure  in  bright  garments  flashed  upon  the  two  gentlemen 
through  the  glass  —  the  door  was  flung  open  —  flower-pots  fell  in 
homage  to  passing  petticoats — and  Mr.  Vanstone's  youngest  daugh- 
ter ran  up  to  him  at  headlong  speed,  with  every  external  appearance 
of  having  suddenly  taken  leave  of  her  senses. 

"  Papa  !  the  dream  of  my  whole  life  is  realized,"  she  said,  as  soon 
as  she  could  speak.  u  I  shall  fly  through  the  roof  of  the  greenhouse, 
if  somebody  doesn't  hold  me  down.  The  Marrables  have  come  here 
with  an  invitation.  Guess,  you  darling — guess  what  they're  going  to 
give  at  Evergreen  Lodge !" 

"A  ball !"  said  Mr.  Vanstone,  without  a  moment's  hesitation. 

"  Private  Theatricals ! ! !"  cried  Magdalen,  her  clear  young  voice 
ringing  through  the  conservatory  like  a  bell ;  her  loose  sleeves  fall- 
ing back,  and  showing  her  round  white  arms  to  the  dimpled  el- 
bows, as  she  clapped  her  hands  ecstatically  in  the  air.  "  '  The  Ri- 
vals '  is  the  play,  papa — '  The  Rivals,'  by  the  famous  what's-his-name 
—and  they  want  me  to  act !  The  one  thing  in  the  whole  universe 
that  I  long  to  do  most.  It  all  depends  on  you.  Mamma  shakes  her 
head ;  and  Miss  Garth  looks  daggers ;  and  Norah's  as  sulky  as  usual 
— but  if  you  say  Yes,  they  must  all  three  give  way,  and  let  me  do  as 
I  like.  Say  Yes,"  she  pleaded,  nestling  softly  up  to  her  father,  and 
pressing  her  lips  with  a  fond  gentleness  to  his  ear,  as  she  whispered 
the  next  words.  "  Say  Yes,  and  I'll  be  a  good  girl  for  the  rest  of 
my  life." 

"A  good  girl?"  repeated  Mr.  Vanstone  —  "a  mad  girl,  I  think 
you  must  mean.  Hang  these  people,  and  their  theatricals  !  I  shall 
have  to  go  indoors,  and  see  about  this  matter.     You  needn't  throw 


42  NO   NAME. 

away  your  cigar,  Frank.  You're  well  out  of  the  business,  and  you 
can  stop  here." 

"  No,  he  can't,"  said  Magdalen.     "  He's  in  the  business  too." 

Mr.  Francis  Clare  had  hitherto  remained  modestly  in  the  back- 
ground. He  now  came  forward,  with  a  face  expressive  of  speech- 
less amazement. 

"  Yes,"  continued  Magdalen,  answering  his  blank  look  of  inquiry 
with  perfect  composure.  "You  are  to  act.  Miss  Marrable  and  I 
have  a  turn  for  business,  and  we  settled  it  all  in  five  minutes. 
There  are  two  parts  in  the  play  left  to  be  filled.  One  is  Lucy,  the 
waiting  -  maid ;  which  is  the  character  I  have  undertaken — with 
papa's  permission,"  she  added,  slyly  pinching  her  father's  arm; 
"  and  he  won't  say  No,  will  he  ?  First,  because  he's  a  darling ;  sec- 
ondly, because  I  love  him,  and  he  loves  me ;  thirdly,  because  there 
is  never  any  difference  of  opinion  between  us  (is  there  ?) ;  fourthly, 
because  I  give  him  a  kiss,  which  naturally  stops  his  mouth  and  set- 
tles the  whole  question.  Dear  me,  I'm  wandering.  Where  was  I 
just  now  ?     Oh  yes !  explaining  myself  to  Frank — " 

"  I  beg  your  pardon,"  began  Frank,  attempting,  at  this  point,  to 
enter  his  protest. 

"  The  second  character  in  the  play,"  pursued  Magdalen,  without 
taking  the  smallest  notice  of  the  protest,  "  is  Falkland— a  jealous 
lover,  with  a  fine  flow  of  language.  Miss  Marrable  and  I  discussed 
Falkland  privately  on  the  window-seat  while  the  rest  were  talking. 
She  is  a  delightful  girl  —  so  impulsive,  so  sensible,  so  entirely  un- 
affected. She  confided  in  me.  She  said, '  One  of  our  miseries  is 
that  we  can't  find  a  gentleman  who  will  grapple  with  the  hideous 
difficulties  of  Falkland.'  Of  course  I  soothed  her.  Of  course  I 
said, '  I've  got  the  gentleman,  and  he  shall  grapjile  immediately.' — 
'  Oh  heavens !  who  is  he  V — '  Mr.  Faucis  Clare.' — '  And  where  is  he  ?' 
— '  In  the  house  at  this  moment.' — '  Will  you  be  so  very  charming, 
Miss  Vanstone,  as  to  fetch  him  ?' — '  I'll  fetch  him,  Miss  Marrable, 
with  the  greatest  pleasure.'  I  left  the  window-seat — I  rushed  into 
the  morning-room — I  smelled  cigars — I  followed  the  smell — and 
here  I  am." 

"  It's  a  compliment,  I  know,  to  be  asked  to  act,"  said  Frank,  in 
great  embarrassment.  "  But  I  hope  you  and  Miss  Marrable  will  ex- 
cuse me — " 

"  Certainly  not.  Miss  Marrable  and  I  are  both  remarkable  for  the 
firmness  of  our  characters.  When  we  say  Mr.  So-and-So  is  positive- 
ly to  act  the  part  of  Falkland,  we  positively  mean  it.  Come  in,  and 
be  introduced." 

"  But  I  never  tried  to  act.     I  don't  know  how." 

"  Not  of  the  slightest  consequence.  If  you  don't  know  how,  come 
to  me,  and  I'll  teach  you." 


NO   NAME.  43 

"  You !"  exclaimed  Mr.  Vanstone.    "  What  do  you  know  about  it  ?" 

"  Pray,  papa,  be  serious  !  I  have  the  strongest  internal  convic- 
tion that  I  could  act  every  character  in  the  play — Falkland  included. 
Don't  let  me  have  to  speak  a  second  time,  Frank.  Come  and  be  in- 
troduced." 

She  took  her  father's  arm,  and  moved  on  with  him  to  the  door  of 
the  greenhouse.  At  the  steps,  she  turned  and  looked  round  to  see 
if  Frank  was  following  her.  It  was  only  the  action  of  a  moment ; 
but  in  that  moment  her  natural  firmness  of  will  rallied  all  its  re- 
sources— strengthened  itself  with  the  influence  of  her  beauty — com- 
manded—  and  conquered.  She  looked  lovely:  the  flush  was  ten- 
derly bright  in  her  cheeks  ;  the  radiant  pleasure  shone  and  sparkled 
in  her  eyes ;  the  position  of  her  figure,  turned  suddenly  from  the 
waist  upward,  disclosed  its  delicate  strength,  its  supple  firmness, 
its  seductive,  serpentine  grace.  "  Come !"  she  said,  with  a  coquet- 
tish beckoning  action  of  her  head.     "  Come,  Frank  !" 

Few  men  of  forty  would  have  resisted  her  at  that  moment. 
Frank  was  twenty  last  birthday.  In  other  words,  he  threw  aside 
his  cigar,  and  followed  her  out  of  the  greenhouse. 

As  he  turned  and  closed  the  door — in  the  instant  when  he  lost 
sight  of  her — his  disinclination  to  be  associated  with  the  private 
theatricals  revived.  At  the  foot  of  the  house-steps  he  stopped  again ; 
plucked  a  twig  from  a  plant  near  him ;  broke  it  in  his  hand ;  and 
looked  about  him  uneasily,  on  this  side  and  on  that.  The  path  to 
the  left  led  back  to  his  father's  cottage — the  way  of  escape  lay  open. 
Why  not  take  it  ? 

While  he  still  hesitated,  Mr.  Vanstone  and  his  daughter  reached 
the  top  of  the  steps.  Once  more,  Magdalen  looked  round — looked 
with  her  resistless  beauty,  with  her  all-conquering  smile.  She 
beckoned  again ;  and  again  he  followed  her — up  the  steps,  and  over 
the  threshold.     The  door  closed  on  them. 

So,  with  a  trifling  gesture  of  invitation  on  one  side,  with  a  trifling 
act  of  compliance  on  the  other :  so — with  no  knowledge  in  his  mind, 
with  no  thought  in  hers,  of  the  secret  still  hidden  under  the  journey 
to  London — they  took  the  way  which  led  to  that  secret's  discovery, 
through  many  a  darker  winding  that  was  yet  to  come. 


CHAPTER  V. 

Mr.  Vanstone's  inquiries  into  the  proposed  theatrical  entertain- 
ment at  Evergreen  Lodge  were  answered  by  a  narrative  of  dramatic 
disasters ;  of  which  Miss  Marrable  impersonated  the  innocent  cause. 
and  in  which  her  father  and  mother  played  the  parts  of  chief  victims 


44  NO    NAME. 

Miss  Marrable  was  that  hardest  of  all  horn  tyrants — an  only  child. 
She  had,  never  granted  a  constitutional  privilege  to  her  oppressed 
father  and  mother,  since  the  time  when  she  cut  her  first  tooth.  Her 
seventeenth  birthday  was  now  near  at  hand  ;  she  had  decided  on 
celebrating  it  by  acting  a  play ;  had  issued  her  orders  accordingly ; 
and  had  been  obeyed  by  her  docile  parents  as  implicitly  as  usual. 
Mrs.  Marrable  gave  up  the  drawing-room  to  be  laid  waste  for  a 
stage  and  a  theatre.  Mr.  Marrable  secured  the  services  of  a  respect- 
able professional  person  to  drill  the  young  ladies  and  gentlemen, 
and  to  accept  all  the  other  responsibilities  incidental  to  creating  a 
dramatic  world  out  of  a  domestic  chaos.  Having  further  accustom- 
ed themselves  to  the  breaking  of  furniture  and  the  staining  of  walls 
— to  thumping,  tumbling,  hammering,  and  screaming;  to  doors  al- 
ways banging,  and  to  footsteps  perpetually  running  up  and  down 
stairs — the  nominal  master  and  mistress  of  the  house  fondly  believed 
that  their  chief  troubles  were  over.  Innocent  and  fatal  delusion  ! 
It  is  one  thing  in  private  society  to  set  up  the  stage  and  choose  the 
play — it  is  another  thing  altogether  to  find  the  actors.  Hitherto, 
only  the  small  preliminary  annoyances  proper  to  /the  occasion  had 
shown  themselves  at  Evergreen  Lodge.  The  sound  and  serious 
troubles  were  all  to  come. 

"  The  Rivals  '■  having  been  chosen  as  the  play,  Miss  Marrable,  as 
a  matter  of  course,  appropriated  to  herself  the  part  of  "  Lydia  Lan- 
guish." One  of  her  favored  swains  next  secured  u  Captain  Absolute," 
aud  another  laid  violent  hands  on  "  Sir  Lucius  O'Trigger."  These 
two  were  followed  by  an  accommodating  spinster  relative,  who  ac- 
cepted the  heavy  dramatic  responsibility  of  "  Mrs.  Malaprop  " — and 
there  the  theatrical  proceedings  came  to  a  pause.  Nine  more  speak- 
ing characters  were  left  to  be  fitted  with  representatives ;  and  with 
that  uuavoidable  necessity  the  serious  troubles  began. 

All  the  friends  of  the  family  suddenly  became  unreliable  people, 
for  the  first  time  in  their  lives.  After  encouraging  the  idea  of  the 
p]ay,  they  declined  the  personal  sacrifice  of  acting  in  it — or,  they 
accepted  characters,  and  then  broke  down  in  the  effort  to  study 
them — or  they  volunteered  to  take  the  parts  which  they  knew  were 
already  engaged,  and  declined  the  parts  which  were  waiting  to  be 
acted— or  they  were  afflicted  with  weak  constitutions,  and  mischiev- 
ously fell  ill  when  they  were  wanted  at  rehearsal — or  they  had  Puri- 
tan relatives  in  the  background,  and,  after  slipping  into  their  parts 
cheerfully  at  the  week's  beginning,  oozed  out  of  them  penitently, 
under  serious  family  pressure,  at  the  week's  end.  Meanwhile,  the 
carpenters  hammered  and  the  scenes  rose.  Miss  Marrable,  whose 
temperament  was  sensitive,  became  hysterical  under  the  strain  of 
perpetual  anxiety;  the  family  doctor  declined  to  answer  for  the 
nervous  consecpjences  if  something  was  not  done.     Renewed  efforts 


NO    NAME.  45 

were  made  in  every  direction.  Actors  and  actresses  were  sought 
witn  a  desperate  disregard  of  all  considerations  of  personal  fitness. 
^Necessity,  which  knows  no  law,  either  in  the  drama  or  out  of  it,  ac- 
cepted a  lad  of  eighteen  as  the  representative  of  "  Sir  Anthony  Ab- 
solute ;"  the  stage-manager  undertaking  to  supply  the  necessary 
wrinkles  from  the  illimitable  resources  of  theatrical  art.  A  lady 
whose  age  was  unknown,  and  whose  personal  appearance  was  stout 
— but  whose  heart  was  in  the  right  place — volunteered  to  act  the 
part  of  the  sentimental  "  Julia,"  and  brought  with  her  the  dramatic 
qualification  of  habitually  wearing  a  wig  in  private  life.  Thanks  to 
these  vigorous  measures,  the  play  was  at  last  supplied  with  repre- 
sentatives— always  excepting  the  two  unmanageable  characters  of 
"  Lucy  "  the  waiting-maid,  and  "  Falkland,"  Julia's  jealous  lover. 
Gentlemen  came ;  saw  Julia  at  rehearsal ;  observed  her  stoutness 
and  her  wig;  omitted  to  notice  that  her  heart  was  in  the  right 
place ;  quailed  at  the  prospect,  apologized,  and  retired.  Ladies 
read  the  part  of  "  Lucy ;"  remarked  that  she  appeared  to  great  ad- 
vantage in  the  first  half  of  the  play,  and  faded  out  of  it  altogether 
in  the  latter  half;  objected  to  pass  from  the  notice  of  the  audience 
in  that  manner,  when  all  the  rest  had  a  chance  of  distinguishing 
themselves  to  the  end ;  shut  up  the  book,  apologized,  and  retired. 
In  eight  days  more  the  night  of  performance  would  arrive ;  a  pha- 
lanx of  social  martyrs  two  hundred  strong,  had  been  convened  to 
witness  it ;  three  full  rehearsals  were  absolutely  necessary ;  and  two 
characters  in  the  play  were  not  filled  yet.  With  this  lamentable 
story,  and  with  the  humblest  apologies  for  presuming  on  a  slight 
acquaintance,  the  Marrables  appeared  at  Combe-Raven,  to  appeal  to 
the  young  ladies  for  a  "  Lucy,"  and  to  the  universe  for  a  "  Falk- 
land," with  the  mendicant  pertinacity  of  a  family  in  despair. 

This  statement  of  circumstances — addressed  to  an  audience  which 
included  a  father  of  Mr.  Vanstone's  disposition,  and  a  daughter  of 
Magdalen's  temperament  —  produced  the  result  which  might  have 
been  anticipated  from  the  first. 

Either  misinterpreting,  or  disregarding,  the  ominous  silence  pre- 
served by  his  wife  and  Miss  Garth,  Mr.  Vanstone  not  only  gave 
Magdalen  permission  to  assist  the  forlorn  dramatic  company,  but 
accepted  an  invitation  to  witness  the  performance  for  Norah  and 
himself.  Mrs.  Vanstone  declined  accompanying  them  on  account 
of  her  health ;  and  Miss  Garth  only  engaged  to  make  one  among 
the  audience,  conditionally  on  not  being  wanted  at  home.  The 
"  parts  "  of  "  Lucy  "  and  "  Falkland  "  (which  the  distressed  family 
carried  about  with  them  everywhere,  like  incidental  maladies)  were 
handed  to  their  representatives  on  the  spot.  Frank's  faint  remon- 
strances were  rejected  without  a  hearing ;  the  days  and  hours  of  re- 
hearsal were  carefully  noted  down  on  the  covers  of  the  parts ;  and 


46  NO    NAME. 

the  Marrables  took  their  leave,  with  a  perfect  explosion  of  thanks — 
father,  mother,  and  daughter  sowing  their  expressions  of  gratitude 
broadcast,  from  the  drawing-room  door  to  the  garden-gates. 

As  soon  as  the  carriage  had  driven  away,  Magdalen  presented 
herself  to  the  general  observation  under  an  entirely  new  aspect. 

"  If  any  more  visitors  call  to-day,"  she  said,  with  the  profoundest 
gravity  of  look  and  manner,  "  I  am  not  at  home.  This  is  a  far 
more  serious  matter  than  any  of  you  suppose.  Go  somewhere  by 
yourself,  Frank,  and  read  over  your  part,  and  don't  let  your  atten- 
tion wander  if  you  can  possibly  help  it.  I  shall  not  be  accessible 
before  the  evening.  If  you  will  come  here — with  papa's  permission 
— after  tea,  my  views  on  the  subject  of  Falkland  will  be  at  your  dis- 
posal. Thomas !  whatever  else  the  gardener  does,  he  is  not  to  make 
any  floricultural  noises  under  my  window.  For  the  rest  of  the 
afternoon  I  shall  be  immersed  in  study — and  the  quieter  the  house 
is,  the  more  obliged  I  shall  feel  to  every  body." 

Before  Miss  Garth's  battery  of  reproof  could  open  fire,  before  the 
first  outburst  of  Mr.  Vanstone's  hearty  laughter  could  escape  his 
lips,  she  bowed  to  them  with  imperturbable  gravity ;  ascended  the 
house-steps  for  the  first  time  in  her  life,  at  a  walk  instead  of  a  run ; 
and  retired  then  and  there  to  the  bedroom  regions.  Frank's  help- 
less astonishment  at  her  disappearance  added  a  new  element  of  ab- 
surdity to  the  scene.  He  stood  first  on  one  leg  and  then  on  the 
other ;  rolling  and  unrolling  his  part,  and  looking  piteously  in  the 
faces  of  the  friends  about  him.  "  I  know  I  can't  do  it,"  he  said. 
"  May  I  come  in  after  tea,  and  hear  Magdalen's  views  ?  Thank  you 
— I'll  look  in  about  eight.  Don't  tell  my  father  about  this  acting, 
please :  I  should  never  hear  the  last  of  it."  Those  were  the  only 
words  he  had  spirit  enough  to  utter.  He  drifted  away  aimlessly  in 
the  direction  of  the  shrubbery,  with  the  part  hanging  open  in  his 
hand — the  most  incapable  of  Falklands,  and  the  most  helpless  of 
mankind. 

Frank's  departure  left  the  family  by  themselves,  and  was  the  sig- 
nal accordingly  for  an  attack  on  Mr.  Vanstone's  inveterate  careless- 
ness in  the  exercise  of  his  paternal  authority. 

"  What  could  you  possibly  be  thinking  of,  Andrew,  when  you 
gave  your  consent  ?"  said  Mrs.  Vanstone.  "  Surely  my  silence  was 
a  sufficient  warning  to  you  to  say  No  ?".  . 

"A  mistake,  Mr.  Vanstone,"  chimed  in  Miss  Garth.  "Made  with 
the  best  intentions — but  a  mistake  for  all  that." 

"  It  may  be  a  mistake,"  said  Norah,  taking  her  father's  part,  as 
usual.  "But  I  really  don't  see  how  papa,  or  any  one  else,  could 
have  declined,  under  the  circumstances." 

"  Quite  right,  my  dear,"  observed  Mr.  Vanstone.  "  The  circum- 
stances, as.  you  say,  were  dead  against  me.     Here  were  these  un< 


THEHE   SAT   MAGDALEN,  IN   AN   ARM-CHAIR   BEFORE   THE   LOOKING-GLASS. 


NO    NAME.  49 

fortunate  people  in  a  scrape  on  one  side  ;  and  Magdalen,  on  the 
other,  mad  to  act.  I  couldn't  say  I  had  methodistical  objections 
— I've  nothing  methodistical  about  me.  What  other  excuse  could 
I  make  ?  The  Marrables  are  respectable  people,  and  keep  the 
best  company  in  Clifton.  What  harm  can  she  get  in  their  house  ? 
If  you  come  to  prudence  and  that  sort  of  thing  — why  shouldn't 
Magdalen  do  what  Miss  Marrable  does  ?  There  !  there !  let  the 
poor  things  act,  and  amuse  themselves.  We  were  their  age  once 
—  and  it's  no  use  making  a  fuss — and  that's  all  I've  got  to  say 
about  it." 

With  that  characteristic  defense  of  his  own  conduct,  Mr.  Vanstone 
sauntered  back  to  the  greenhouse  to  smoke  another  cigar. 

"  I  didn't  say  so  to  papfy"  said  Norah,  taking  her  mother's  arm  on 
the  way  back  to  the  house,  "  but  the  bad  result  of  the  acting,  in  my 
opinion,  will  be  the  familiarity  it  is  sure  to  encourage  between  Mag- 
dalen and  Francis  Clare." 

"  You  are  prejudiced  against  Frank,  my  love,"  said  Mrs.  Vanstone. 

Norah's  soft,  secret,  hazel  eyes  sank  to  the  ground ;  she  said  no 
more.  Her  opinions  were  unchangeable  —  but  she  never  disputed 
with  any  body.  She  had  the  great  failing  of  a  reserved  nature — the 
failing  of  obstinacy;  and  the  great  merit  —  the  merit  of  silence. 
"  What  is  your  head  running  on  now  ?"  thought  Miss  Garth,  casting 
a  sharp  look  at  Norah's  dark,  downcast  face.  "  Yoii're  olie  of  the 
impenetrable  sort.  Give  me  Magdalen,  with  all  her  perversitieB ;  I 
can  see  daylight  through  her.     You're  as  dark  as  night." 

The  hours  of  the  afternoon  passed  away,  and  still  Magdalen  re- 
mained shut  up  in  her  own  room.  No  restless  footsteps  pattered  on 
the  stairs ;  no  nimble  tongue  was  heard  chattering  here,  there,  and 
everywhere,  from  the  garret  to  the  kitchen — the  house  seemed  hard- 
ly like  itself,  with  the  one  ever-disturbing  element  in  the  family 
serenity  suddenly  withdrawn  from  it.  Anxious  to  witness  with 
her  own  eyes  the  reality  of  a  transformation  in  which  past  experi- 
ence still  inclined  her  to  disbelieve,  Miss  Garth  ascended  to  Mag- 
dalen's room,  knocked  twice  at  the  door,  received  no  answer,  open- 
ed it,  and  looked  in. 

There  sat  Magdalen,  in  an  arm-chair  before  the  long  looking- 
glass,  with  all  her  hair  let  down  over  her  shoulders;  absorbed  in 
the  study  of  her  part  and  comfortably  arrayed  in  her  morning  wrap- 
per, until  it  was  time  to  dress  for  dinner.  And  there  behind  her 
sat  the  lady's-maid,  slowly  combing  out  the  long  heavy  locks  of  her 
young  mistress's  hair,  with  the  sleepy  resignation  of  a  woman  who 
had  been  engaged  in  that  employment  for  some  hours  past.  The 
sun  was  shining;  and  the  green  shutters  outside  the  window  were 
closed.  The  dim  light  fell  tenderly  on  the  two  quiet  seated  figures; 
on  the  little  white  bed,  with  the  knots  of  rose-colored  ribbon  which 


50  NO    NAME. 

looped  up  its  curtains,  and  the  bright  dress  for  dinner  laid  ready 
across  it;  on  the  gayly  painted  bath,  with  its  pure  lining  of  white 
enamel ;  on  the  toilet-table  with  its  sparkling  trinkets,  its  crystal 
bottles,  its  silver  bell  with  Cupid  for  a  handle,  its  litter  of  little 
luxuries  that  adorn  the  shrine  of  a  woman's  bed-chamber.  The  lux- 
urious tranquillity  ol  the  scene;  the  cool  fragrance  of  flowers  and 
perfumes  in  the  atmosphere ;  the  rapt  attitude  of  Magdalen,  absorb- 
ed over  her  reading ;  the  monotonous  regularity  of  movement  in  the 
maid's  hand  and  arm,  as  she  drew  the  comb  smoothly  through  and 
through  her  mistress's  hair — all  conveyed  the  same  soothing  im- 
pression of  drowsy,  delicious  quiet.  On  one  side  of  the  door  were 
the  broad  daylight,  and  the  familiar  realities  of  life.  On  the  other, 
was  the  dream-land  of  Elysian  serenity — the  sanctuary  of  unruffled 
repose. 

Miss  Garth  paused  on  the  threshold,  and  looked  into  the  room  in 
silence. 

Magdalen's  curious  fancy  for  having  her  hair  combed  at  all  tunes 
and  seasons,  was  among  the  peculiarities  of  her  character  which 
were  notorious  to  every  body  in  the  house.  It  was  one  of  her  fa- 
ther's favorite  jokes,  that  she  reminded  him,  on  such  occasions,  of  a 
cat  having  her  back  stroked,  and  that  he  always  expected,  if  the 
combing  were  only  continued  long  enough,  to  hear  her  purr.  Ex- 
travagant as  it  may  seem,  the  comparison  was  not  altogether  inap- 
propriate. The  girl's  fervid  temperament  intensified  the  essentially 
feminine  pleasure  that  most  women  feel  in  the  passage  of  the  comb 
through  their  hair,  to  a  luxury  of  sensation  which  absorbed  her  in 
enjoyment,  so  serenely  self-demonstrative,  so  drowsily  deep,  that  it 
did  irresistibly  suggest  a  pet  cat's  enjoyment  under  a  caressing  hand. 
Intimately  as  Miss  Garth  was  acquainted  with  this  peculiarity  in  her 
pupil,  she  now  saw  it  asserting  itself  for  the  first  time,  in  association 
with  mental  exertion  of  any  kind  on  Magdalen's  part.  Feeling, 
therefore,  some  curiosity  to  know  how  long  the  combing  and  the 
studying  had  gone  on  together,  she  ventured  on  putting  the  ques- 
tion, first  to  the  mistress ;  and  (receiving  no  answer  in  that  quarter) 
secondly  to  the  maid." 

"All  the  afternoon,  miss,  off  and  on,"  was  the  weary  answer. 
"  Miss  Magdalen  says  it  soothes  her  feelings  and  clears  her  mind." 

Knowing  by  experience  that  interference  would  be  hopeless,  under 
these  circumstances,  Miss  Garth  turned  sharply  and  left  the  room. 
She  smiled  when  she  was  outside  on  the  landing.  The  female  mind 
does  occasionally — though  not  often — project  itself  into  the  future. 
Miss  Garth  was  prophetically  jfitying  Magdalen's  unfortunate  hus- 
band. 

Dinner-time  presented  the  fair  student  to  the  family  eye  in  the 
same  mentally  absorbed  aspect.     On  all  ordinary  occasions  Magda- 


NO    NAME.  51 

len's  appetite  would  have  terrified  those  feeble  sentimentalists,  who 
affect  to  ignore  the  all-important  influence  which  female  feeding  ex- 
erts in  the  production  of  female  beauty.  On  this  occasion,  she  re- 
fused one  dish  after  another  with  a  resolution  which  implied  the 
rarest  of  all  modern  martyrdoms  —  gastric  martyrdom.  "I  have 
conceived  the  part  of  Lucy,"  she  observed,  with  the  demurest  grav 
ity.  "  The  next  difficulty  is  to  make  Frank  conceive  the  part  of 
Falkland.  I  see  nothing  to  laugh  at  —  you  would  all  be  serious 
enough  if  you  had  my  responsibilities.  No,  papa — no  wine  to-day, 
thank  you.  I  must  keep  my  intelligence  clear.  "Water,  Thomas — 
and  a  little  more  jelly,  I  think,  before  you  take  it  away." 

When  Frank  presented  himself  in  the  evening,  ignorant  of  the 
first  elements  of  his  part,  she  took  him  in  hand,  as  a  middle-aged 
school-mistress  might  have  taken  in  hand  a  backward  little  boy. 
The  few  attempts  he  made  to  vary  the  sternly  practical  nature  of 
the  evening's  occupation  by  slipping  in  compliments  sidelong,  she 
put  away  from  her  with  the  contemptuous  self-possession  of  a  wom- 
an of  twice  her  age.  She  literally  forced  him  into  his  part.  Her 
father  fell  asleep  in  his  chair.  Mrs.  Vanstone  and  Miss  Garth  lost 
their  interest  in  the  proceedings,  retired  to  the  farther  end  of  the 
room,  and  spoke  together  in  whispers.  It  grew  later  and  later; 
and  still  Magdalen  never  flinched  from  her  task — still,  with  equal 
perseverance,  Norah,  who  had  been  on  the  watch  all  through  the 
evening,  kept  on  the  watch  to  the  end.  The  distrust  darkened  and 
darkened  on  her  face  as  she  looked  at  her  sister  and  Frank ;  as  she 
saw  how  close  they  sat  together,  devoted  to  the  same  interest  and 
working  to  the  same  end.  The  clock  on  the  mantel-piece  pointed 
to  half-past  eleven,  before  Lucy  the  resolute  permitted  Falkland  the 
helpless  to  shut  up  his  task-book  for  the  night.  "  She's  wonderful 
ly  clever,  isn't  she  ?"  said  Frank,  taking  leave  of  Mr.  Vanstone  at  the 
hall  door.  "  I'm  to  come  to-morrow,  and  hear  more  of  her  views — 
if  you  have  no  objection.  I  shall  never  do  it ;  don't  tell  her  I  said 
so.  As  fast  as  she  teaches  me  one  speech,  the  other  goes  out  of  my 
head.     Discouraging,  isn't  it  ?     Good-night." 

The  next  day  but  one  was  the  day  of  the  first  full  rehearsal.  On 
the  previous  evening  Mrs.  Vanstone's  spirits  had  been  sadly  depress- 
ed. At  a  private  interview  with  Miss  Garth,  she  had  referred  again, 
of  her  own  accord,  to  the  subject  of  her  letter  from  London — had 
spoken  self-reproachfully  of  her  weakness  in  admitting  Captain 
Wragge's  impudent  claim  to  a  family  connection  with  her — and 
had  then  reverted  to  the  state  of  her  health,  and  to  the  doubtful 
prospect  that  awaited  her  in  the  coming  summer,  in  a  tone  of  de- 
spondency which  it  was  very  distressing  to  hear.  Anxious  to  cheer 
her  spirits,  Miss  Garth  had  changed  the  conversation  as  soon  as  pos- 
sible— had  referred  to  the  approaching  theatrical  performance — and 


52  NO    NAME. 

had  relieved  Mrs.  Van  stone's  mind  of  all  anxiety  in  that  direction, 
by  announcing  her  intention  of  accompanying  Magdalen  to  each 
rehearsal,  and  of  not  losing  sight  of  her  until  she  was  safely  back 
again  in  her  father's  house.  Accordingly,  when  Frank  presented 
himself  at  Combe-Raven  oh  the  eventful  morning,  there  stood  Miss 
Garth,  prepared — in  the  interpolated  character  of  Argus — to  accom- 
pany Lucy  and  Falkland  to  the  scene  of  trial.  The  railway  con- 
veyed the  three,  in  excellent  time,  to  Evergreen  Lodge ;  and  at  one 
o'clock  the  rehearsal  began. 


CHAPTER  VI. 

I  hope  Miss  Vanstone  knows  her  part  ?"  whispered  Mrs.  Marrable, 
anxiously  addressing  herself  to  Miss  Garth,  in  a  corner  of  the  thea- 
tre. 

"  If  airs  and  graces  make  an  actress,  ma'am,  Magdalen's  perform- 
ance will  astonish  us  all."  With  that  reply,  Miss  Garth  took  out 
her  work,  and  seated  herself,  on  guard,  in  the  centre  of  the  pit. 

The  manager  perched  himself,  book  in  hand,  on  a  stool  close  in 
front  of  the  stage.  He  was  an  active  little  man,  of  a  sweet  and 
cheerful  temper;  and  he  gave  the  signal  to  begin  with  as  patient 
an  interest  in  the  proceedings  as  if  they  had  caused  him  no  trouble 
in  the  past,  and  promised  him  no  difficulty  in  the  future.  The  two 
characters  which  open  the  comedy  of  The  Rivals,  "  Fag,"  and  the 
"  Coachman,"  appeared  on  the  scene — looked  many  sizes  too  tall 
for  their  canvas  background,  which  represented  a  "  Street  in  Bath" 
— exhibited  the  customary  inability  to  manage  their  own  arms,  legs, 
and  voices — went  out  severally  at  the  wrong  exits — and  expressed 
their  perfect  approval  of  results,  so  far,  by  laughing  heartily  behind 
the  scenes.  "  Silence,  gentlemen,  if  you  please,"  remonstrated  the 
cheerful  manager.  "  As  loud  as  you  like  on  the  stage,  but  the  audi- 
ence mustn't  hear  you  off  it.  Miss  Marrable  ready  ?  Miss  Vanstone 
ready  ?  Easy  there  with  the  '  Street  in  Bath ;'  it's  going  up  crook- 
ed !  Face  this  way,  Miss  Marrable ;  full  face,  if  you  please.  Miss 
Vanstone — "  he  checked  himself  suddenly.  "  Curious,"  he  said, 
under  his  breath — "  she  fronts  the  audience  of  her  own  accord !" 
Lucy  opened  the  scene  in  these  words :  "  Indeed,  ma'am,  I  traversed 
half  the  town  in  search  of  it :  I  don't  believe  there's  a  circulating 
library  in  Bath  I  haven't  been  at."  The  manager  started  in  his 
chair.  "  My  heart  alive !  she  speaks  out  without  telling !"  The 
dialogue  went  on.  Lucy  produced  the  novels  for  Miss  Lydia  Lan- 
guish's private  reading  from  under  her  cloak.  The  manager  rose 
excitably  to  his  feet.     Marvelous !     No  hurry  with  the  books ;  no 


NO    NAME.  53 

dropping  them.  She  looked  at  the  titles  before  she  announced 
them  to  her  mistress ;  she  set  down  '•'  Humphry  Clinker ''  on  "  The 
Tears  of  Sensibility  "  with  a  smart  little  smack  which  pointed  the 
antithesis.  One  moment — and  she  announced  Julia's  visit ;  another 
— and  she  dropped  the  brisk  waiting-maid's  courtesy;  a  third — and 
she  was  off  the  stage  on  the  side  set  down  for  her  in  the  book. 
The  manager  wheeled  round  on  his  stool,  and  looked  hard  at  Miss 
Garth.  u  I  beg  your  pardon,  ma'am,"  he  said.  "  Miss  Marrable 
told  me,  before  we  began,  that  this  was  the  young  lady's  first  at- 
tempt.    It  can't  be,  surely !" 

"  It  is,"  replied  Miss  Garth,  reflecting  the  manager's  look  of  amaze- 
ment on  her  own  face.  Was  it  possible  that  Magdalen's  unintelligi- 
ble industry  in  the  study  of  her  part  really  sprang  from  a  serious 
interest  in  her  occupation — an  interest  which  implied  a  natural  fit- 
ness for  it  ? 

The  rehearsal  went  on.  The  stout  lady  with  the  wig  (and  the 
excellent  heart)  personated  the  sentimental  Julia  from  an  inveter- 
ately  tragic  point  of  view,  and  used  her  handkerchief  distractedly 
in  the  first  scene.  The  spinster  relative  felt  Mrs.  Malaprop's  mis- 
takes in  language  so  seriously,  and  took  such  extraordinary  pains 
with  her  blunders,  that  they  sounded  more  like  exercises  in  elocu- 
tion than  any  thing  else.  The  unhappy  lad  who  led  the  forlorn 
hope  of  the  company,  in  the  person  of  "  Sir  Anthony  Absolute,"  ex- 
pressed the  age  and  irascibility  of  his  character  by  tottering  inces- 
santly at  the  knees,  and  thumping  the  stage  perpetually  with  his 
stick.  Slowly  and  clumsily,  with  constant  interruptions,  and  in- 
terminable mistakes,  the  first  act  dragged  on,  until  Lucy  appeared 
again  to  end  it  in  soliloquy,  with  the  confession  of  her  assumed 
simplicity  and  the  praise  of  her  own  cunning. 

Here,  the  stage  artifice  of  the  situation  presented  difficulties 
which  Magdalen  had  not  encountered  in  the  first  scene — and  here, 
her  total  want  of  experience  led  her  into  more  than  one  palpable 
mistake.  The  stage-manager,  with  an  eagerness  which  he  had  not 
shown  in  the  case  of  any  other  member  of  the  company,  interfered 
immediately,  and  set  her  right.  At  one  point  she  was  to  pause, 
and  take  a  turn  on  the  stage — she  did  it.  At  another,  she  was  to 
stop,  toss  her  head,  and  look  pertly  at  the  audience — she  did  it. 
When  she  took  out  the  paper  to  read  the  list  of  the  presents  she 
had  received,  could  she  give  it  a  tap  with  her  finger  (Yes)  ?  And 
lead  off  with  a  little  laugh  (Yes — after  twice  trying)  ?  Could  she 
read  the  different  items  with  a  sly  look  at  the  end  of  each  sentence, 
straight  at  the  pit  (Yes,  straight  at  the  pit,  and  as  sly  as  you  please)  ? 
The  manager's  cheerful  face  beamed  with  approval.  He  tucked  the 
play  under  his  arm,  and  clapped  his  hands  gayly;  the  gentlemen, 
clustered  together  behind  the  scenes,  followed  his  example ;  the 


54  NO    NAME. 

ladies  looked  at  each  other  with  dawning  doubts  whether  they  had 
not  better  have  left  the  new  recruit  in  the  retirement  of  private  life. 
Too  deeply  absorbed  in  the  business  of  the  stage  to  heed  any  of 
them,  Magdalen  asked  leave  to  repeat  the  soliloquy,  and  make  quite 
sure  of  her  own  improvement.  She  went  all  through  it  again  with- 
out a  mistake,  this  time,  from  beginning  to  end ;  the  manager  cele- 
brating her  attention  to  his  directions  by  an  outburst  of  professional 
approbation,  which  escaped  him  in  spite  of  himself.  "  She  can  take 
a  hint !"  cried  the  little  man,  with  a  hearty  smack  of  his  hand  on 
the  prompt-book.  "  She's  a  born  actress,  if  ever  there  was  one 
yet !" 

"  I  hope  not,"  said  Miss  Garth  to  herself,  taking  up  the  work 
which  had  dropped  into  her  lap,  and  looking  down  at  it  in  some 
perplexity.  Her  worst  apprehension  of  results  in  connection  with 
the  theatrical  enterprise,  had  foreboded  levity  of  conduct  with  some 
of  the  gentlemen — she  had  not  bargained  for  this.  Magdalen,  in 
the  capacity  of  a  thoughtless  girl,  was  comparatively  easy  to  deal 
with.  Magdalen,  in  the  character  of  a  born  actress,  threatened  seri- 
ous future  difficulties. 

The  rehearsal  proceeded.  Lucy  returned  to  the  stage  for  her 
scenes  in  the  second  act  (the  last  in  which  she  appears)  with  Sir 
Lucius  and  Fag.  Here,  again,  Magdalen's  inexperience  betrayed  it- 
self— and  here  once  more  her  resolution  in  attacking  and  conquer- 
ing her  own  mistakes  astonished  every  body.  "  Bravo  !"  cried  the 
gentlemen  behind  the  scenes,  as  she  steadily  trampled  down  one 
blunder  after  another.  "  Ridiculous  !"  said  the  ladies,  "  with  such 
a  small  part  as  hers."  "  Heaven  forgive  me  !"  thought  Miss  Garth, 
coming  round  unwillingly  to  the  general  opinion.  "  I  almost  wish 
we  were  Papists,  and  had  a  convent  to  put  her  in  to-morrow."  One 
of  Mr.  Marrable's  servants  entered  the  theatre  as  that  desperate  as- 
piration escaped  the  governess.  She  instantly  sent  the  man  behind 
the  scenes  with  a  message :  "  Miss  Vanstone  has  done  her  part  in 
the  rehearsal ;  request  her  to  come  here  and  sit  by  me."  The  serv- 
ant returned  with  a  polite  apology:  "Miss  Vanstone's  kind  love, 
and  she  begs  to  be  excused — she's  prompting  Mr.  Clare."  She 
prompted  him  to  such  purpose  that  he  actually  got  through  his 
part.  The  performances  of  the  other  gentlemen  were  obtrusively 
imbecile.  Frank  was  just  one  degree  better — he  was  modestly  in- 
capable ;  and  he  gained  by  comparison.  ,l  Thanks  to  Miss  Van- 
stone,"  observed  the  manager,  who  had  heard  the  prompting.  "  She 
pulled  him  through.  We  shall  be  flat  enough  at  night,  when  the 
drop  falls  on  the  second  act,  and  the  audience  have  seen  the  last  of 
her.     It's  a  thousand  pities  she  hasn't  got  a  better  part !" 

"  It's  a  thousand  mercies  she's  no  more  to  do  than  she  has,"  mut- 
tered Miss  Garth,  overhearing  him.     "  As  things  are,  the  people  can't 


NO    NAME.  55 

well  turn  her  head  with  applause.  She's  out  of  the  play  in  the  sec- 
ond act — that's  one  comfort !" 

No  well-regulated  mind  ever  draws  its  inferences  in  a  hurry ; 
Miss  Garth's  mind  was  well  regulated ;  therefore,  logically  speaking, 
Miss  Garth  ought  to  have  been  superior  to  the  weakness  of  rushing 
at  conclusions.  She  had  committed  that  error,  nevertheless,  under 
present  circumstances.  In  plainer  terms,  the  consoling  reflection 
which  had  just  occurred  to  her,  assumed  that  the  play  had  by  this 
time  survived  all  its  disasters,  and  entered  on  its  long-deferred  ca- 
reer of  success.  The  play  had  done  nothing  of  the  sort.  Misfortune 
and  the  Marrable  family  had  not  parted  company  yet. 

When  the  rehearsal  was  over,  nobody  observed  that  the  stout 
lady  with  the  wig  privately  withdrew  herself  from  the  company ; 
and  when  she  was  afterward  missed  from  the  table  of  refreshments, 
which  Mr.  Marrable's  hospitality  kept  ready  spread  in  a  room  near 
the  theatre,  nobody  imagined  that  there  was  any  serious  reason  for 
her  absence.  It  was  not  till  the  ladies  and  gentlemen  assembled  for 
the  next  rehearsal  that  the  true  state  of  the  case  was  impressed  on 
the  minds  of  the  company.  At  the  appointed  hour  no  Julia  appear- 
ed. In  her  stead,  Mrs.  Marrable  portentously  approached  the  stage, 
with  an  open  letter  in  her  hand.  She  was  naturally  a  lady  of  the 
mildest  good  breeding :  she  was  mistress  of  every  bland  convention- 
ality in  the  English  language — but  disasters  and  dramatic  influences 
combined,  threw  even  this  harmless  matron  off  her  balance  at  last. 
For  the  first  time  in  her  life  Mrs.  Marrable  indulged  in  vehement 
gesture,  and  used  strong  language.  She  handed  the  letter  sternly, 
at  arms-length,  to  her  daughter.  "  My  dear,"  she  said,  with  an  as 
pect  of  awful  composure,  "  we  are  under  a  Curse."  Before  the 
amazed  dramatic  company  could  petition  for  an  explanation,  she 
turned  and  left  the  room.  The  manager's  professional  eye  followed 
her  out  respectfully — he  looked  as  if  he  approved  of  the  exit,  from  a 
theatrical  point  of  view. 

What  new  misfortune  had  befallen  the  play  ?  The  last  and  worst 
of  all  misfortunes  had  assailed  it.  The  stout  lady  had  resigned  her 
part. 

Not  maliciously.  Her  heart,  which  had  been  in  the  right  place 
throughout,  remained  inflexibly  in  the  right  place  still.  Her  ex- 
planation of  the  circumstances  proved  this,  if  nothing  else  did.  The 
letter  began  with  a  statement :  She  had  overheard,  at  the  last  re- 
hearsal (quite  unintentionally)  personal  remarks  of  which  she  was 
the  subject.  They  might,  or  might  not,  have  had  reference  to  her — 
Hair;  and  her — Figure.  She  would  not  distress  Mrs.  Marrable  by 
repeating  them.  Neither  would  she  mention  names,  because  it  was 
foreign  to  her  nature  to  make  bad  worse.  The  only  course  at  all 
consistent  with  her  own  self-respect  was  to  resign  her  part.     She 


56  NO   NAME. 

inclosed  it,  accordingly,  to  Mrs.  Marrable,  with  many  apologies  for 
her  presumption  in  undertaking  a  youthful  character,  at  —  what  a 
gentleman  was  pleased  to  term — her  Age ;  and  with  what  two  ladies 
were  rude  enough  to  characterize  as  her  disadvantages  of — Hair, 
and  —  Figure.  A  younger  and  more  attractive  representative  of 
Julia  would  no  doubt  be  easily  found.  In  the  mean  time,  all  per- 
sons concerned  had  her  full  forgiveness,  to  which  she  would  only 
beg  leave  to  add  her  best  and  kindest  wishes  for  the  success  of  the 
play. 

In  four  nights  more  the  play  was  to  be  performed.  If  ever  any 
human  enterprise  stood  in  need  of  good  wishes  to  help  it,  that  en- 
terprise was  unquestionably  the  theatrical  entertainment  at  Ever- 
green Lodge ! 

One  arm-chair  was  allowed  on  the  stage ;  and  into  that  arm-chair 
Miss  Marrable  sank,  preparatory  to  a  tit  of  hysterics.  Magdalen 
stepped  forward  at  the  first  convulsion ;  snatched  the  letter  from 
Miss  Marrable's  hand ;  and  stopped  the  threatened  catastrophe. 

"  She's  an  ugly,  bald-headed,  malicious,  middle-aged  wretch  !"  said 
Magdalen,  tearing  the  letter  into  fragments,  and  tossing  them  over 
the  heads  of  the  company.  "But  I  can  tell  her  one  thing  —  she 
sha'n't  spoil  the  play.     I'll  act  Julia." 

"  Bravo  !"  cried  the  chorus  of  gentlemen — the  anonymous  gentle- 
man who  had  helped  to  do  the  mischief  (otherwise  Mr.  Francis 
Clare)  loudest  of  all. 

u  If  you  want  the  truth,  I  don't  shrink  from  owning  it,"  continued 
Magdalen.  "  I'm  one  of  the  ladies  she  means.  I  said  she  had  a  head 
like  a  mop,  and  a  waist  like  a  bolster.     So  she  has." 

"  I  am  the  other  lady,"  added  the  spinster  relative.  "  But  I  only 
said  she  was  too  stout  for  the  part." 

"  I  am  the  gentleman,"  chimed  in  Frank,  stimulated  by  the  force 
of  example.     u  I  said  nothing — I  only  agreed  with  the  ladies." 

Here  Miss  Garth  seized  her  opportunity,  and  addressed  the  stage 
loudly  from  the  pit. 

"  Stop  !  stop !"  she  said.  "  You  can't  settle  the  difficulty  that 
way.     If  Magdalen  plays  Julia,  who  is  to  play  Lucy  ?" 

Miss  Marrable  sank  back  in  the  arm-chair,  and  gave  way  to  the 
second  convulsion. 

"  Stuff  and  nonsense !"  cried  Magdalen,  "  the  thing's  simple 
enough,  I'll  act  Julia  and  Lucy  both  together." 

The  manager  was  consulted  on  the  spot.  Suppressing  Lucy's 
first  entrance,  and  turning  the  short  dialogue  about  the  novels  into 
a  soliloquy  for  Lydia  Languish,  appeared  to  be  the  only  changes  of 
importance  necessary  to  the  accomplishment  of  Magdalen's  project. 
Lucy's  two  telling  scenes,  at  the  end  of  the  first  and  second  acts, 
were  sufficiently'  removed  from  the  scenes  in  which  Julia  appeared 


NO   NAME.  57 

to  give  time  for  the  necessary  transformations  in  dress.  Even  Miss 
Garth,  though  she  tried  hard  to  rind  them,  could  put  no  fresh  ob- 
stacles in  the  way.  The  question  was  settled  in  five  minutes,  and 
the  rehearsal  went  on;  Magdalen  learning  Julia's  stage  situations 
with  the  book  in  her  hand,  and  announcing  afterward,  on  the 
journey  home,  that  she  proposed  sitting  up  all  night  to  study  the 
new  part.  Frank  thereupon  expressed  his  fears  that  she  would 
have  no  time  left  to  help  him  through  his  theatrical  difficulties. 
She  tapped  him  on  the  shoulder  coquettishly  with  her  part.  "  You 
foolish  fellow,  how  am  I  to  do  without  you  ?  You're  Julia's  jealous 
lover;  you're  always  making  Julia  cry.  Come  to-night,  and  make 
me  cry  at  tea-time.  You  haven't  got  a  venomous  old  woman  in  a 
wig  to  act  with  now.  It's  my  heart  you're  to  break — and  of  course 
I  shall  teach  you  how  to  do  it." 

The  four  days'  interval  passed  busily  in  perpetual  rehearsals,  pub- 
lic and  private.  The  night  of  performance  arrived ;  the  guests  as- 
sembled; the  great  dramatic  experiment  stood  on  its  trial.  Mag- 
dalen had  made  the  most  of  her  opportunities ;  she  had  learned  all 
that  the  manager  could  teach  her  in  the  time.  Miss  Garth  left 
her  when  the  overture  began,  sitting  apart  in  a  corner  behind  the 
scenes,  serious  and  silent,  with  her  smelling-bottle  in  one  hand,  and 
her  book  in  the  other,  resolutely  training  herself  for  the  coming  or- 
deal, to  the  very  last. 

The  play  began,  with  all  the  proper  accompaniments  of  a  theat- 
rical performance  in  private  life ;  with  a  crowded  audience,  an  Afri- 
can temperature,  a  bursting  of  heated  lamp-glasses,  and  a  difficulty 
in  drawing  up  the  curtain.  "Fag"  and  "the  Coachman,"  who 
opened  the  scene,  took  leave  of  their  memories  as  soon  as  they 
stepped  on  the  stage ;  left  half  their  dialogue  unspoken ;  came  to 
a  dead  pause ;  were  audibly  entreated  by  the  invisible  manager  to 
"  come  off;"  and  went  off  accordingly,  in  every  respect  sadder  and 
wiser  men  than  when  they  went  on.  The  next  scene  disclosed  Miss 
Marrable  as  "Lydia  Languish,"  gracefully  seated,  very  pretty,  beau- 
tifully dressed,  accurately  mistress  of  the  smallest  words  in  her 
part ;  possessed,  in  short,  of  every  personal  resource  —  except  her 
voice.  The  ladies  admired,  tl  ?  gentlemen  applauded.  Nobody 
heard  any  thing,  but  the  words  "  Speak  up,  miss,"  whispered  by 
the  same  voice  which  had  already  entreated  "  Fag "  and  "  the 
Coachman "  to  "  come  off."  A  responsive  titter  rose  among  the 
younger  spectators ;  checked  immediately  by  magnanimous  ap- 
plause. The  temperature  of  the  audience  was  rising  to  Blood  Heat 
— but  the  national  sense  of  fair  play  was  not  boiled  out  of  them 
yet. 

In  the  midst  of  the  demonstration,  Magdalen  quietly  made  her 


58  NO   NAME. 

first  entrance,  as  "Julia."  She  was  dressed  very  plainly  in  dark 
colors,  and  wore  her  own  hair;  all  stage  adjuncts  and  alterations 
(excepting  the  slightest  possible  touch  of  rouge  on  her  cheeks) 
having  been  kept  in  reserve  to  disguise  her  the  more  effectually 
in  her  second  part.  The  grace  and  simplicity  of  her  costume,  the 
steady  self-possession  with  which  she  looked  out  over  the  eager 
rows  of  faces  before  her,  raised  a  low  hum  of  approval  and  expec- 
tation. She  spoke — after  suppressing  a  momentary  tremor — with  a 
quiet  distinctness  of  Utterance  which  reached  all  ears,  and  which  at 
once  confirmed  the  favorable  impression  that  her  appearance  had 
produced.  The  one  member  of  the  audience  who  looked  at  her 
and  listened  to  her  coldly,  was  her  elder  sister.  Before  the  actress 
of  the  evening  had  been  five  minutes  on  the  stage,  Norah  detected, 
to  her  own  indescribable  astonishment,  that  Magdalen  had  auda- 
ciously individualized  the  feeble  amiability  of  "Julia's"  character, 
by  seizing  no  less  a  person  than  herself  as  the  model  to  act  it  by. 
She  saw  all  her  own  little  formal  peculiarities  of  manner  and  move- 
ment unblushingly  reproduced — and  even  the  very  tone  of  her  voice 
so  accurately  mimicked  from  time  to  time,  that  the  accents  startled 
her  as  if  she  was  speaking  herself,  with  an  echo  on  the  stage.  The 
effect  of  this  cool  appropriation  of  Norah's  identity  to  theatrical 
purposes  on  the  audience — who  only  saw  results — asserted  itself  in 
a  storm  of  applause  on  Magdalen's  exit.  She  had  won  two  incon- 
testable triumphs  in  her  first  scene.  By  a  dexterous  piece  of  mim- 
icry, she  had  made  a  living  reality  of  one  of  the  most  insipid  char- 
acters in  the  English  drama ;  and  she  had  roused  to  enthusiasm  an 
audience  of  two  hundred  exiles  from  the  blessings  of  ventilation, 
all  simmering  together  in  their  own  animal  heat.  Under  the  cir- 
cumstances, where  is  the  actress  by  profession  who  could  have  done 
much  more  ? 

But  the  event  of  the  evening  was  still  to  come.  Magdalen's  dis- 
guised re-appearance  at  the  end  of  the  act,  in  the  character  of 
"Lucy" — with  false  hair  and  false  eyebrows,  with  a  bright -red 
complexion  and  patches  on  her  cheeks,  with  the  gayest  colors 
flaunting  in  her  dress,  and  the  shrillest  vivacity  of  voice  and  man- 
ner— fairly  staggered  the  audience.  They  looked  down  at  their 
programmes,  in  which  the  representative  of  Lucy  figured  under  an 
assumed  name ;  looked  up  again  at  the  stage ;  penetrated  the  dis- 
guise ;  and  vented  their  astonishment  in  another  round  of  applause, 
louder  and  heartier  even .  than  the  last.  Norah  herself  could  not 
deay  this  time  that  the  tribute  of  approbation  had  been  well  de- 
served. There,  forcing  its  way  steadily  through  all  the  faults  of  in- 
experience— there,  plainly  visible  to  the  dullest  of  the  spectators, 
was  the  rare  faculty  of  dramatic  impersonation,  expressing  itself  in 
every  look  and  action  of  this  girl  of  eighteen,  who  now  stood  on  a 


NO   NAME.  59 

stage  for  the  first  time  in  her  life.  Failing  in  many  minor  requi- 
sites of  the  double  task  which  she  had  undertaken,  she  succeeded 
in  the  one  important  necessity. of  keeping  the  main  distinctions  of 
the  two  characters  thoroughly  apart.  Every  body  felt  that  the  dif- 
ficulty lay  here — every  body  saw  the  difficulty  conquered — every 
body  echoed  the  manager's  enthusiasm  at  rehearsal,  which  had 
hailed  her  as  a  born  actress. 

When  the  drop-scene  descended  for  the  first  time,  Magdalen  had 
concentrated  in  herself  the  whole  interest  and  attraction  of  the  play. 
The  audience  politely  applauded  Miss  Marrable,  as  became  the  guests 
assembled  in  her  father's  house :  and  good-humoredly  encouraged 
the  remainder  of  the  company,  to  help  them  through  a  task  for 
which  they  were  all,  more  or  less,  palpably  unfit.  But,  as  the  play 
proceeded,  nothing  roused  them  to  any  genuine  expression  of  inter- 
est when  Magdalen  was  absent  from  the  scene.  There  was  no  dis- 
guising it :  Miss  Marrable  and  her  bosom  friends  had  been  all  hope- 
lessly cast  in  the  shade  by  the  new  recruit  whom  they  had  summon- 
ed to  assist  them,  in  the  capacity  of  forlorn  hope.  And  this  on  Miss 
Marrable's  own  birthday !  and  this  in  her  father's  house !  and  this 
after  the  unutterable  sacrifices  of  six  weeks  past !  Of  all  the  domes- 
tic disasters  which  the  thankless  theatrical  enterprise  had  inflicted 
on  the  Marrable  family,  the  crowning  misfortune  was  now  consum- 
mated by  Magdalen's  success. 

Leaving  Mr.  Vanstone  and  Norah,  on  the  conclusion  of  the  play, 
among  the  guests  in  the  supper-rooni,  Miss  Garth  went  behind  the 
scenes ;  ostensibly  anxious  to  see  if  she  could  be  of  any  use ;  really 
bent  on  ascertaining  whether  Magdalen's  head  had  been  turned  by 
the  triumphs  of  the  evening.  It  would  not  have  surprised  Miss 
Garth  if  she  had  discovered  her  pupil  in  the  act  of  making  terms 
with  the  manager  for  her  forthcoming  appearance  in  a  public  the- 
atre. As  events  really  turned  out,  she  found  Magdalen  on  the  stage, 
receiving,  with  gracious  smiles,  a  card  which  the  manager  presented 
to  her  with  a  professional  bow.  Noticing  Miss  Garth's  mute  look 
of  inquiry,  the  civil  little  man  hastened  to  explain  that  the  card 
was  his  own,  and  that  he  was  merely  asking  the  favor  of  Miss  Van- 
Btone's  recommendation  at  any  future  opportunity. 

"  This  is  not  the  last  time  the  young  lady  will  be  concerned  in 
private  theatricals,  I'll  answer  for  it,"  said  the  manager.  "And  if 
a  superintendent  is  wanted  on  the  next  occasion,  she  has  kindly 
promised  to  say  a  good  word  for  me.  I  am  always  to  be  heard  of, 
miss,  at  that  address."  Saying  those  words,  he  bowed  again,  and 
discreetly  disappeared. 

Vague  suspicions  beset  the  mind  of  Miss  Garth,  and  urged  her  to 
insist  on  looking  at  the  card.  No  more  harmless  morsel  of  paste- 
board was  ever  passed  from  one  hand  to  another.     The  card  con- 


60  NO   NAME. 

tained  nothing  but  the  manager's  name,  and,  under  it,  the  name  and 
address  of  a  theatrical  agent  in  London. 

"  It  is  not  worth  the  trouble  of  keeping,"  said  Miss  Garth. 

Magdalen  caught  her  hand  before  she  could  throw  the  card  away 
—possessed  herself  of  it  the  next  instant — and  put  it  in  her  pocket. 

"I  promised  to  recommend  him,"  she  said — "and  that's  one  rea- 
son for  keeping  his  card.  If  it  does  nothing  else,  it  will  remind  me 
of  the  happiest  evening  of  my  life — and  that's  another.  Come  !"  she 
cried,  throwing  her  arms  round  Miss  Garth  with  a  feverish  gayety— 
"  congratulate  me  on  my  success  !" 

"  I  will  congratulate  you  when  you  have  got  over  it,"  said  Miss 
Garth. 

In  half  an  hour  more  Magdalen  had  changed  her  dress ;  had  join- 
ed the  guests;  and  had  soared  into  an  atmosphere  of  congratula- 
tion, high  above  the  reach  of  any  controlling  influence  that  Miss 
Garth  could  exercise.  Frank,  dilatory  in  all  his  proceedings,  was 
the  last  of  the  dramatic  company  who  left  the  precincts  of  the 
stage.  He  made  no  attempt  to  join  Magdalen  in  the  supper-room 
— but  he  was  ready  in  the  hall  with  her  cloak,  when  the  carriages 
were  called  and  the  party  broke  up. 

"  Oh,  Frank  !"  she  said,  looking  round  at  him  as  he  put  the  cloak 
on  her  shoulders,  "  I  am  so  sorry  it's  all  over !  Come  to-morrow 
morning,  and  let's  talk  about  it  by  ourselves." 

"  In  the  shrubbery  at  ten  ?"  asked  Frank,  in  a  whisper. 

She  drew  up  the  hood  of  her  cloak,  and  nodded  to  him  gayly. 
Miss  Garth,  standing  near,  noticed  the  looks  that  passed  between 
them,  though  the  disturbance  made  by  the  parting  guests  prevent- 
ed her  from  hearing  the  words.  There  was  a  soft,  underlying  ten- 
derness in  Magdalen's  assumed  gayety  of  manner — there  was  a  sud- 
den thoughtfulness  in  her  face,  a  confidential  readiness  in  her  hand, 
as  she  took  Frank's  arm  and  went  out  to  the  carriage.  What  did 
it  mean  ?  Had  her  passing  interest  in  him  as  her  stage-pupil, 
treacherously  sown  the  seeds  of  any  deeper  interest  in  him,  as  a 
man  ?  Had  the  idle  theatrical  scheme,  now  that  it  was  all  over, 
graver  results  to  answer  for  than  a  mischievous  waste  of  time  ? 

The  lines  on  Miss  Garth's  face  deepened  and  hardened :  she  stood 
lost  among  the  fluttering  crowd  around  her.  Norah's  warning 
words,  addressed  to  Mrs.  Vanstone  in  the  garden,  recurred  to  her 
memory — and  now,  for  the  first  time,  the  idea  dawned  on  her  that 
Norah  had  seen  consequences  in  their  true  light. 


NO    NAME.  61 


CHAPTER  VH. 

Early  the  next  morning  Miss  Gartli  and  Norah  met  in  the  gar- 
den, and  spoke  together  privately.  The  only  noticeable  result  of 
the  interview,  when  they  presented  themselves  at  the  breakfast-ta- 
ble, appeared  in  the  marked  silence  which  they  both  maintained  on 
the  topic  of  the  theatrical  performance.  Mrs.  Vanstone  was  entire- 
ly indebted  to  her  husband  and  to  her  youngest  daughter  for  all 
that  she  heard  of  the  evening's  entertainment.  The  governess  and 
the  elder  daughter  had  evidently  determined  on  letting  the  subject 
drop. 

After  breakfast  was  over,  Magdalen  proved  to  be  missing,  when 
the  ladies  assembled  as  usual  in  the  morning-room.  Her  habits 
were  so  little  regular  that  Mrs.  Vanstone  felt  neither  surprise  nor 
uneasiness  at  her  absence.  Miss  Garth  and  Norah  looked  at  one  an- 
other significantly,  and  waited  in  silence.  Two  hours  passed — and 
there  were  no  signs  of  Magdalen.  Norah  rose,  as  the  clock  struck 
twelve,  and  quietly  left  the  room  to  look  for  her. 

She  was  not  up  stairs,  dusting  her  jewelry  and  disarranging  her 
dresses.  She  was  not  in  the  conservatory,  not  in  the  flower-garden ; 
not  in  the  kitchen  teasing  the  cook ;  not  in  the  yard  playing  with 
the  dogs.  Had  she,  by  any  chance,  gone  out  with  her  father  ?  Mr. 
Vanstone  had  announced  his  intention,  at  the  breakfast-table,  of 
paying  a  morning  visit  to  his  old  ally,  Mr.  Clare,  and  of  rousing  the 
philosopher's  sarcastic  indignation  by  an  account  of  the  dramatic 
performance.  None  of  the  other  ladies  at  Combe-Raven  ever  ven- 
tured themselves  inside  the  cottage.  But  Magdalen  was  reckless 
enough  for  any  thing — and  Magdalen  might  have  gone  there.  As 
the  idea  occurred  to  her,  Norah  entered  the  shrubbery. 

At  the  second  turning,  where  the  path  among  the  trees  wound 
away  out  of  sight  of  the  house,  she  came  suddenly  face  to  face  with 
Magdalen  and  Frank:  they  were  sauntering  toward  her,  arm  in 
arm,  their  heads  close  together,  their  conversation  apparently  pro- 
ceeding in  whispers.  They  looked  suspiciously  handsome  and  hap- 
py. At  the  sight  of  Norah  both  started,  and  both  stopped.  Frank 
confusedly  raised  his  hat,  and  turned  back  in  the  direction  of  his 
father's  cottage.  Magdalen  advanced  to  meet  her  sister,  carelessly 
swinging  her  closed  parasol  from  side  to  side,  carelessly  humming 
an  air  from  the  overture  which  had  preceded  the  rising  of  the  cur- 
tain on  the  previous  night. 


62  NO    NAME. 

"  Luncheon  -  time  already !"  she  said,  looking  at  her  watch. 
"  Surely  not  ?" 

"  Have  you  and  Mr.  Francis  Clare  been  alone  in  the  shrubbery 
since  ten  o'clock  ?"  asked  Norah. 

"  Mr.  Francis  Clare !  How  ridiculously  formal  you  are.  Why 
don't  you  call  him  Frank  ?" 

"  I  asked  you  a  question,  Magdalen." 

"  Dear  me,  how  black  you  look  this  morning !  I'm  in  disgrace, 
I  suppose.  Haven't  you  forgiven  me  yet  for  my  acting  last  night  ? 
I  couldn't  help  it,  love ;  I  should  have  made  nothing  of  Julia,  if  I 
hadn't  taken  you  for  my  model.  It's  quite  a  question  of  Art.  In 
your  place,  I  should  have  felt  flattered  by  the  selection." 

"  In  your  place,  Magdalen,  I  should  have  thought  twice  before  I 
mimicked  my  sister  to  an  audience  of  strangers." 

"  That's  exactly  why  I  did  it — an  audience  of  strangers.  How 
were  they  to  know  ?  Come !  come !  don't  be  angry.  You  are 
eight  years  older  than  I  am — you  ought  to  set  me  an  example  of 
good-humor." 

"  I  will  set  you  an  example  of  plain-speaking.  I  am  more  sorry 
than  I  can  say,  Magdalen,  to  meet  you  as  I  met  you  here  just  now  !" 

"  What  next,  I  wonder  ?  You  meet  me  in  the  shrubbery  at  home, 
talking  over  the  private  theatricals  with  my  old  play-fellow,  whom 
I  knew  when  I  was  no  taller  than  this  parasol.  And  that  is  a  glar- 
ing impropriety,  is  it  ?  '  Honi  soit  qui  mal  y  pense.'  You  wanted  an 
answer  a  minute  ago — there  it  is  for  you,  my  dear,  in  the  choicest 
Norman-French." 

"  I  am  in  earnest  about  this,  Magdalen — " 

"  Not  a  doubt  of  it.  Nobody  can  accuse  you  of  ever  making 
jokes." 

"  I  am  seriously  sorry — " 

"  Oh  dear !" 

"  It  is  quite  useless  to  interrupt  me.  I  have  it  on  my  conscience 
to  tell  you — and  I  will  tell  you — that  I  am  sorry  to  see  how  this  in- 
timacy is  growing.  I  am  sorry  to  see  a  secret  understanding  estab- 
lished already  between  you  and  Mr.  Francis  Clare." 

"  Poor  Frank !  How  you  do  hate  him,  to  be  sure.  What  on 
earth  has  he  done  to  offend  you  ?" 

Norah's  self-control  began  to  show  signs  of  failing  her.  Her 
dark  cheeks  glowed,  her  delicate  lips  trembled,  before  she  spoke 
again.  Magdalen  paid  more  attention  to  her  parasol  than  to  her 
sister.  She  tossed  it  high  in  the  air,  and  caught  it.  "  Once !"  she 
said — and  tossed  it  up  again.  "  Twice  !" — and  she  tossed  it  higher. 
"  Thrice — "  Before  she  could  catch  it  for  the  third  time,  Norah 
seized  her  passionately  by  the  arm,  and  the  parasol  dropped  to  the 
ground  between  them. 


NO   NAME.  63 

"  You  are  treating  me  heartlessly,"  she  said.  "  For  shame,  Mag- 
dalen— for  shame !" 

The  irrepressible  outburst  of  a  reserved  nature,  forced  into  open 
self-assertion  in  its  own  despite,  is  of  all  moral  forces  the  hardest  to 
resist.  Magdalen  was  startled  into  silence.  For  a  moment,  the  two 
sisters — so  strangely  dissimilar  in  person  and  character — faced  one 
another,  without  a  word  passing  between  them.  For  a  moment, 
the  deep  brown  eyes  of  the  elder  and  the  light  gray  eyes  of  the 
younger  looked  into  each  other  with  steady  unyielding  scrutiny  on 
either  side.  Norah's  face  was  the  first  to  change ;  Norah's  head 
was  the  first  to  turn  away.  She  dropped  her  sister's  arm  in  silence. 
Magdalen  stooped,  and  picked  up  her  parasol. 

"  I  try  to  keep  my  temper,"  she  said,  "  and  you  call  me  heartless 
for  doing  it.     You  always  were  hard  on  me,  and  you  always  will  be." 

Norah  clasped  her  trembling  hands  fast  in  each  other.  "  Hard 
on  you !"  she  said,  in  low,  mournful  tones — and  sighed  bitterly. 

Magdalen  drew  back  a  little,  and  mechanically  dusted  the  parasol 
with  the  end  of  her  garden  cloak. 

"  Yes !"  she  resumed,  doggedly.  "  Hard  on  me,  and  hard  on 
Frank." 

"  Frank !"  repeated  Norah,  advancing  on  her  sister,  and  turning 
pale  as  suddenly  as  she  had  turned  red.  "Do  you  talk  of  yourself 
and  Frank  as  if  your  interests  were  One  already  ?  Magdalen  !  if  I 
hurt  you,  do  I  hurt  him  ?     Is  he  so  near  and  so  dear  to  you  as  that  ?" 

Magdalen  drew  farther  and  farther  back.  A  twig  from  a  tree 
near  caught  her  cloak ;  she  turned  petulantly,  broke  it  off,  and 
threw  it  on  the  ground.  "  What  right  have  you  to  question  me  ?" 
she  broke  out  on  a  sudden.  "  Whether  I  like  Frank,  or  whether  I 
don't,  what  interest  is  it  of  yours  ?"  As  she  said  the  words,  she 
abruptly  stepped  forward  to  pass  her  sister,  and  return  to  the  house. 

Norah,  turning  paler  and  paler,  barred  the  way  to  her.  "  If  I 
hold  you  by  main  force,"  she  said,  "  you  shall  stop  and  hear  me.  I 
have  watched  this  Francis  Clare ;  I  know  him  better  than  you  do. 
He  is  unworthy  of  a  moment's  serious  feeling  on  yourpart;  he  is 
unworthy  of  our  dear,  good,  kind-hearted  father's  interest  in  him. 
A  man  with  any  principle,  any  honor,  any  gratitude,  would  not 
have  come  back  as  he  has  come  back,  disgraced — yes!  disgraced 
by  his  spiritless  neglect  of  his  own  duty.  I  watched  his  face  while 
the  friend  who  has  been  better  than  a  father  to  him  was  comforting 
and  forgiving  him  with  a  kindness  he  had  not  deserved  :  I  watched 
his  face,  and  I  saw  no  shame,  and  no  distress  in  it — I  saw  nothing 
but  a  look  of  thankless,  heartless  relief.  He  is  selfish,  he  is  ungrate- 
ful, he  is  ungenerous — he  is  only  twenty,  and  he  has  the  worst  fail- 
ings of  a  mean  old  age  already.  And  this  is  the  man  I  find  you 
meeting  in  secret — the  man  who  has  taken  such  a  place  in  your  fa- 
vor that  you  are  deaf  to  the  truth  about  him,  even  from  my  lips ! 


64  NO    NAME. 

Magdalen  !  this  will  end  ill.  For  God's  sake,  think  of  what  I  have 
said  to  you,  and  control  yourself  before  it  is  too  late!"  She  stopped, 
vehement  and  breathless,  and  caught  her  sister  anxiously  by  the 
hand. 

Magdalen  looked  at  her  in  unconcealed  astonishment. 

"  You  are  so  violent,"  she  said,  "  and  so  unlike  yourself,  that  I 
hardly  know  you.  The  more  patient  I  am,  the  more  hard  words 
I  get  for  my  pains.  You  have  taken  a  perverse  hatred  to  Frank; 
and  you  are  unreasonably  angry  with  me,  because  I  won't  hate  him 
too.     Don't,  Norah  !  you  hurt  my  hand." 

Norah  pushed  the  hand  from  her  contemptuously.  "  I  shall  never 
hurt  your  heart,"  she  said ;  and  suddenly  turned  her  back  on  Mag- 
dalen as  she  spoke  the  words. 

There  was  a  momentaiy  pause.  Norah  kept  her  position.  Mag- 
dalen looked  at  her  perplexedly— hesitated — then  walked  away  by 
herself  toward  the  house. 

At  the  turn  in  the  shrubbery  path,  she  stopped,  and  looked  back 
uneasily.  "  Oh,  dear,  dear !"  she  thought  to  herself,  "  why  didn't 
Frank  go  when  I  told  him  ?"  She  hesitated,  and  went  back  a  few 
steps.  "  There's  Norah  standing  on  her  dignity,  as  obstinate  as 
ever."  She  stopped  again.  "  What  had  I  better  do  %  I  hate  quar- 
reling :  I  think  I'll  make  it  up."  She  ventured  close  to  her  sister, 
and  touched  her  on  the  shoulder.  Norah  never  moved.  u  It's  not 
often  she  flies  into  a  passion,"  thought  Magdalen,  touching  her 
again ;  "  but  when  she  does,  what  a  time  it  lasts  her ! — Come  !"  she 
said,  "  give  me  a  kiss,  Norah,  and  make  it  up.  Won't  you  let  me 
get  at  any  part  of  you,  my  dear,  but  the  back  of  your  neck  ?  Well, 
it's  a  very  nice  neck — it's  better  worth  kissing  than  mine — and  there 
the  kiss  is,  in  spite  of  you  !" 

She  caught  fast  hold  of  Norah  from  behind,  and  suited  the  action 
to  the  word,  with  a  total  disregard  of  all  that  had  just  passed, 
which  her  sister  was  far  from  emulating.  Hardly  a  minute  since, 
the  warm  outpouring  of  Norah's  heart  had  burst  through  all  ob- 
stacles. Had  the  icy  reserve  frozen  her  up  again  already !  It  was 
hard  to  say.  She  never  spoke;  she  never  changed  her  position — 
she  only  searched  hurriedly  for  her  handkerchief.  As  she  drew  it 
out,  there  was  a  sound  of  approaching  footsteps  in  the  inner  re- 
cesses of  the  shrubbery.  A  Scotch  tenier  scampered  into  view; 
and  a  cheerful  voice  sang  the  first  lines  of  the  glee  in  "As  You 
Like  It."  "It's  papa  !"  cried  Magdalen.  "  Come,  Norah  —  come 
and  meet  him." 

Instead  of  following  her  sister,  Norah  pulled  down  the  veil  of  her 
garden  hat ;  turned  in  the  opposite  direction ;  and  hurried  back  to 
the  house. 

She  ran  up  to  her  own  room,  and  locked  herself  in.  She  was 
crying  bitterly. 


NO    NAME.  65 


CHAPTER  Vm. 

When  Magdalen  and  her  father  met  in  the  shrubbery,  Mr.  Van- 
stone's  face  showed  plainly  that  something  had  happened  to  please 
him  since  he  had  left  home  in  the  morning.  He  answered  the 
question  which  his  daughter's  curiosity  at  once  addressed  to  him, 
by  informing  her  that  he  had  just  come  from  Mr.  Clare's  cottage ; 
and  that  he  had  picked  up,  in  that  unpromising  locality,  a  startling 
piece  of  news  for  the  family  at  Combe-Raven. 

On  entering  the  philosopher's  study  that  morning,  Mr.  Vanstone 
had  found  him  still  dawdling  over  his  late  breakfast,  with  an  open 
letter  by  his  side,  in  place  of  the  book  which,  on  other  occasions, 
lay  ready  to  his  hand  at  meal-times.  He  held  up  the  letter,  the  mo- 
ment his  visitor  came  into  the  room ;  and  abruptly  opened  the  con- 
versation by  asking  Mr.  Vanstone  if  his  nerves  were  in  good  order, 
and  if  he  felt  himself  strong  enough  for  the  shock  of  an  overwhelm- 
ing surprise. 

"  Nerves  ?"  repeated  Mr.  Vanstone.  "  Thank  God,  I  know  noth- 
ing about  my  nerves.  If  you  have  got  any  thing  to  tell  me,  shock 
or  no  shock,  out  with  it  on  the  spot." 

Mr.  Clare  held  the  letter  a  little  higher,  and  frowned  at  his  visit- 
or across  the  breakfast-table.  "  What  have  I  always  told  you  ?"  he 
asked,  with  his  sourest  solemnity  of  look  and  manner. 

"  A  great  deal  more  than  I  could  ever  keep  in  my  head,"  answer- 
ed Mr.  Vanstone. 

"  In  your  presence  and  out  of  it,"  continued  Mr.  Clare,  "  I  have 
always  maintained  that  the  one  important  phenomenon  presented 
by  modern  society  is — the  enormous  prosperity  of  Fools.  Show  me 
an  individual  Fool,  and  I  will  show  you  an  aggregate  Society  which 
gives  that  highly-favored  personage  nine  chances  out  of  ten — and 
grudges  the  tenth  to  the  wisest  man  in  existence.  Look  where  you 
will,  in  every  high  place  there  sits  an  Ass,  settled  beyond  the  reach 
of  all  the  greatest  intellects  in  this  world  to  pull  him  down.  Over 
our  whole  social  system,  complacent  Imbecility  rules  supreme  — 
snuffs  out  the  searching  light  of  Intelligence  with  total  impunity — 
and  hoots,  owd-like,  in  answer  to  every  form  of  protest,  See  how  well 
-sve  all  do  in  the  dark !  One  of  these  days  that  audacious  assertion 
■fill  be  practically  contradicted,  and  the  whole  rotten  system  of 
aodern  society  will  come  down  with  a  crash." 


66  NO    NAME. 

"  God  forbid !"  cried  Mr.  Vanstone,  looking  about  him  as  if  the 
crash  was  coming  already. 

"  With  a  crash  !"  repeated  Mr.  Clare.  "  There  is  my  theory,  in 
few  words.  Now  for  the  remarkable  application  of  it,  which  this 
letter  suggests.     Here  is  my  lout  of  a  boy — " 

"  You  don't  mean  that  Frank  has  got  another  chance  ?"  exclaimed 
Mr.  Vanstone. 

"  Here  is  this  perfectly  hopeless  booby,  Frank,1'  pursued  the  phi- 
losopher. "  He  has  never  done  any  thing  in  his  life  to  help  himself, 
and,  as  a  necessary  consequence,  Society  is  in  a  conspiracy  to  carry 
him  to  the  top  of  the  tree.  He  has  hardly  had  time  to  throw  away 
that  chance  you  gave  him,  before  this  letter  comes,  and  puts  the 
ball  at  his  foot  for  the  second  time.  My  rich  cousin  (who  is  intel 
lectually  fit  to  be  at  the  tail  of  the  family,  and  who  is  therefore,  as  a 
matter  of  course,  at  the  head  of  it)  has  been  good  enough  to  re- 
member my  existence;  and  has  offered  his  influence  to  serve  my 
eldest  boy.  Read  his  letter,  and  then  observe  the  sequence  of 
events.  My  rich  cousin  is  a  booby  who  thrives  on  landed  property; 
he  has  done  something  for  another  booby  who  thrives  on  Politics, 
who  knows  a  third  booby  who  thrives  on  Commerce,  who  can  do 
something  for  a  fourth  booby,  thriving  at  present  on  nothing,  whoso 
name  is  Frank.  So  the  mill  goes.  So  the  cream  of  all  human  re 
wards  is  sipped  in  endless  succession  by  the  Fools.  I  shall  pack 
Frank  off  to-morrow.  In  course  of  time,  he'll  come  back  again  on 
our  hands,  like  a  bad  shilling :  more  chances  will  fall  in  his  way,  as 
a  necessary  consequence  of  his  meritorious  imbecility.  Years  will 
go  on — I  may  not  live  to  see  it,  no  more  may  you — it  doesn't  matter ; 
Frank's  future  is  equally  certain  either  way — put  him  into  the  army, 
the  Church,  politics,  what  you  please,  and  let  him  drift :  he'll  end  in 
being  a  general,  a  bishop,  or  a  minister  of  state,  by  dint  of  the  great 
modern  qualification  of  doing  nothing  whatever  to  deserve  his 
place."  With  this  summary  of  his  son's  worldly  prospects,  Mr.  Clare 
tossed  the  letter  contemptuously  across  the  table,  and  poured  him- 
self out  another  cup  of  tea. 

Mr.  Vanstone  read  the  letter  with  eager  interest  and  pleasure.  It 
was  written  in  a  tone  of  somewhat  elaborate  cordiality ;  but  the 
practical  advantages  which  it  placed  at  Frank's  disposal  were  be- 
yond all  doubt.  The  writer  had  the  means  of  using  a  friend's  inter- 
est— interest  of  no  ordinary  kind — with  a  great  Mercantile  Firm  in 
the  City ;  and  he  had  at  once  exerted  this  influence  in  favor  of  Mr. 
Clare's  eldest  boy.  Frank  would  be  received  in  the  office  on  a  very 
different  footing  from  the  footing  of  an  ordinary  clerk;  he  would 
be  "  pushed  on  "  at  every  available  opportunity ;  and  the  first  "  good 
thing  "  the  House  had  to  offer  either  at  home  or  abroad,  would  be 
placed  at  his  disposal.     If  he  possessed  fair  abilities  and  showed 


NO    NAME.  67 

common  diligence  in  exercising  them,  his  fortune  was  marie ;  and 
the  sooner  he  was  sent  to  London  to  begin,  the  better  for  his  own 
interests  it  would  be. 

"  Wonderful  news !"  cried  Mr.  Vanstone,  returning  the  letter. 
"  I'm  delighted — I  must  go  back  and  tell  them  at  home.  This  is 
fifty  times  the  chance  that  mine  was.  What  the  deuce  do  you  mean 
by  abusing  Society  ?  Society  has  behaved  uncommonly  well,  in  my 
opinion.     Where's  Frank  ?" 

"  Lurking,"  said  Mr.  Clare.  "  It  is  one  of  the  intolerable  peculiar- 
ities of  louts  that  they  always  lurk.  I  haven't  seen  my  lout  this 
morning.  If  you  meet  with  him  anywhere,  give  him  a  kick,  and 
say  I  want  him." 

Mr.  Clare's  opinion  of  his  son's  habits  might  have  been  expressed 
more  politely  as  to  form  ;  but,  as  to  substance,  it  happened,  on  that 
particular  morning,  to  be  perfectly  correct.  After  leaving  Magda- 
len, Frank  had  waited  in  the  shrubbery,  at  a  safe  distance,  on  the 
chance  that  she  might  detach  herself  from  her  sister's  company,  and 
join  him  again.  Mr.  Vanstone's  appearance  immediately  on  Norah's 
departure,  instead  of  encouraging  him  to  show  himself,  had  deter- 
mined him  on  returning  to  the  cottage.  He  walked  back  discon- 
tentedly ;  and  so  fell  into  his  father's  clutches,  totally  unprepared 
for  the  pending  announcement,  in  that  formidable  quarter,  of  his 
departure  for  London. 

In  the  mean  time,  Mr.  Vanstone  had  communicated  his  news — in 
the  first  place,  to  Magdalen,  and  afterward,  on  getting  back  to  the 
house,  to  his  wife  and  Miss  Garth.  He  was  too  unobservant  a  man 
to  notice  that  Magdalen  looked  unaccountably  startled,  and  Miss 
Garth  unaccountably  relieved,  by  his  announcement  of  Frank's  good 
fortune.  He  talked  on  about  it,  quite  unsuspiciously,  until  the 
luncheon-bell  rang — and  then,  for  the  first  time,  he  noticed  Norah's 
absence.  She  sent  a  message  down  stairs,  after  they  had  assembled 
at  the  table,  to  say  that  a  headache  was  keeping  her  in  her  own 
room.  When  Miss  Garth  went  up  shortly  afterward  to  communicate 
the  news  about  Frank,  Norah  appeared,  strangely  enough,  to  feel 
very  little  relieved  by  hearing  it.  Mr.  Francis  Clare  had  gone  away 
on  a  former  occasion  (she  remarked),  and  had  come  back.  He  might 
come  back  again,  and  sooner  than  they  any  of  them  thought  for. 
She  said  no  more  on  the  subject  than  this :  she  made  no  reference 
to  what  had  taken  place  in  the  shrubbery.  Her  unconquerable  re- 
serve seemed  to  have  strengthened  its  hold  on  her  since  the  out- 
burst of  the  morning.  She  met  Magdalen,  later  in  the  day,  as  if 
nothing  had  happened :  no  formal  reconciliation  took  place  between 
them.  It  was  one  of  Norah's  peculiarities  to  shrink  from  all  recon- 
ciliations that  were  openly  ratified,  and  to  take  her  shy  refuge  in 


68  NO    NAME. 

reconciliations  that  were  silently  implied.  Magdalen  saw  plainly, 
in  her  look  and  manner,  that  she  had  made  her  lirst  and  last  protest. 
Whether  the  motive  was  pride,  or  sullenness,  or  distrust  of  herself, 
or  despair  of  doing  good,  the  result  was  not  to  be  mistaken— Norah 
had  resolved  on  remaining  passive  for  the  future. 

Later  in  the  afternoon,  Mr.  Vanstone  suggested  a  drive  to  his 
eldest  daughter,  as  the  best  remedy  for  her  headache.  She  readi- 
ly consented  to  accompany  her  father ;  who  thereupon  proposed,  as 
usual,  that  Magdalen  should  join  them.  Magdalen  was  nowhere  to 
be  found.  For  the  second  time  that  day,  she  had  wandered  into 
the  grounds  by  herself.  On  this  occasion,  Miss  Garth — who,  after 
adopting  Norah's  opinions,  had  passed  from  the  one  extreme  of 
overlooking  Frank  altogether,  to  the  other  extreme  of  believing 
him  capable  of  planning  an  elopement  at  five  minutes'  notice — vol- 
unteered to  set  forth  immediately,  and  do  her  best  to  find  the  miss- 
ing young  lady.  After  a  prolonged  absence,  she  returned  unsuc- 
cessful— with  the  strongest  persuasion  in  her  own  mind  that  Mag- 
dalen and  Frank  had  secretly  met  one  another  somewhere,  but  with- 
out having  discovered  the  smallest  fragment  of  evidence  to  confirm 
her  suspicions.  By  this  time  the  carriage  was  at  the  door,  and  Mr. 
Vanstone  was  unwilling  to  wait  any  longer.  He  and  Norah  drove 
away  together ;  and  Mrs.  Vanstone  and  Miss  Garth  sat  at  home  over 
their  work. 

In  half  an  hour  more,  Magdalen  composedly  walked  into  the 
room.  She  was  pale  and  depressed,  She  received  Miss  Garth's  re- 
monstrances with  a  weary  inattention ;  explained  carelessly  that  she 
had  been  wandering  in  the  wood;  took  up  some  books,  and  put 
them  down  again ;  sighed  impatiently,  and  went  away  up  stairs  to 
her  own  room. 

"  I  think  Magdalen  is  feeling  the  reaction,  after  yesterday,"  said 
Mrs.  Vanstone,  quietly.  "  It  is  just  as  we  thought.  Now  the  theat- 
rical amusements  are  all  over,  she  is  fretting  for  more." 

Here  was  an  opportunity  of  letting  in  the  light  of  truth  on  Mrs. 
Vanstone's  mind,  which  was  too  favorable  to  be  missed.  Miss  Garth 
questioned  her  conscience,  saw  her  chance,  and  took  it  on  the 
spot. 

"  You  forget,"  she  rejoined, "  that  a  certain  neighbor  of  ours  is 
going  away  to-morrow.  Shall  I  tell  you  the  truth  ?  Magdalen  is 
fretting  over  the  departure  of  Francis  Clare." 

Mrs.  Vanstone  looked  up  from  her  work  with  a  gentle,  smiling 
surprise. 

"  Surely  not  ?"  she  said.  "  It  is  natural  enough  that  Frank  should 
be  attracted  by  Magdalen ;  but  I  can't  think  that  Magdalen  returns 
the  feeling.  Frank  is  so  very  unlike  her;  so  quiet  and  undemon- 
strative ;  so  dull  and  helpless,  poor  fellow,  in  some  things.     He  is 


NO   NAME.  69 

handsome,  I  know,  but  he  is  so  singularly  unlike  Magdalen,  that  I 
can't  think  it  possible — I  can't,  indeed." 

"  My  dear  good  lady !"  cried  Miss  Garth,  in  great  amazement ; 
"  do  you  really  suppose  that  people  fall  in  love  with  each  other  on 
account  of  similarities  in  their  characters  ?  In  the  vast  majority  of 
cases,  they  do  just  the  reverse.  Men  marry  the  very  last  women, 
and  women  the  very  last  men,  whom  their  friends  would  think  it 
possible  they  could  care  about.  Is  there  any  phrase  that  is  oftener 
on  all  our  lips  than  '  What  can  have  made  Mr.  So-and-So  marry  that 
woman?'  —  or  'How  could  Mrs.  So-and-So  throw  herself  away  on 
that  man  ?'  Has  all  your  experience  of  the  world  never  yet  shown 
you  that  girls  take  perverse  fancies  for  men  who  are  totally  un- 
worthy of  them  ?" 

"  Very  true,"  said  Mrs.  Vanstone,  composedly.  "  I  forgot  that. 
Still  it  seems  unaccountable,  doesn't  it  ?" 

"  Unaccountable,  because  it  happens  every  day !"  retorted  Miss 
Garth,  good-humoredly.  "  I  know  a  great  many  excellent  people 
who  reason  against  plain  experience  in  the  same  way — who  read 
the  newspapers  in  the  morning,  and  deny  in  the  evening  that  there 
is  any  romance  for  writers  or  painters  to  work  upon  in  modern  life. 
Seriously,  Mrs.  Vanstone,  you  may  take  my  word  for  it — thanks  to 
those  wretched  theatricals,  Magdalen  is  going  the  way  with  Frank 
that  a  great  many  young  ladies  have  gone  before  her.  He  is  quite 
unworthy  of  her ;  he  is,  in  almost  every  respect,  her  exact  opposite 
— and,  without  knowing  it  herself,  she  has  fallen  in  love  with  him 
on  that  very  account.  She  is  resolute  and  impetuous,  clever  and 
domineering ;  she  is  not  one  of  those  model  women  who  want  a 
man  to  look  up  to,  and  to  protect  them — her  beau-ideal  (though  she 
may  not  think  it  herself)  is  a  man  she  can  henpeck.  Well!  one 
comfort  is,  there  are  far  better  men,  even  of  that  sort,  to  be  had 
than  Frank.  It's  a  mercy  he  is  going  away,  before  we  have  more 
trouble  with  them,  and  before  any  serious  mischief  is  done." 

"  Poor  Frank  !"  said  Mrs.  Vanstone,  smiling  compassionately. 
"  We  have  known  him  since  he  was  in  jackets,  and  Magdalen  in 
short  frocks.  Don't  let  us  give  him  up  yet.  He  may  do  better 
this  second  time." 

Miss  Garth  looked  up  in  astonishment. 

"  And  suppose  he  does  better  ?"  she  asked.     "  What  then  ?" 

Mrs.  Vanstone  cut  off  a  loose  thread  in  her  work,  and  laughed 
outright. 

"  My  good  friend,"  she  said,  "  there  is  an  old  farm-yard  proverb 
which  warns  us  not  to  count  our  chickens  before  they  are  hatched. 
Let  us  wait  a  little  before  we  count  ours." 

It  was  not  easy  to  silence  Miss  Garth,  when  she  was  speaking  un- 
der the  influence  of  a  strong  conviction ;  but  this  reply  closed  her 


70  NO   NAME. 

lips.     She  resumed  her  work  ;  and  looked,  and  thought,  unutterable 
things. 

Mrs.  Vanstone's  behavior  was  certainly  remarkable  under  the 
circumstances.  Here,  on  one  side,  was  a  girl — with  great  personal 
attractions,  with  rare  pecuniary  prospects,  with  a  social  position 
which  might  have  justified  the  best  gentleman  in  the  neighborhood 
in  making  her  an  offer  of  marriage — perversely  casting  herself  away 
on  a  penniless  idle  young  fellow,  who  had  failed  at  his  first  start  in 
life,  and  who,  even  if  he  succeeded  in  his  second  attempt,  must  be 
for  years  to  come  in  no  position  to  marry  a  young  lady  of  fortune 
on  equal  terms.  And  there,  on  the  other  side,  was  that  girl's  moth- 
er, by  no  means  dismayed  at  the  prospect  of  a  connection  which 
was,  to  say  the  least  of  it,  far  from  desirable ;  by  no  means  certain, 
judging  her  by  her  own  words  and  looks,  that  a  marriage  between 
Mr.  Vanstone's  daughter  and  Mr.  Clare's  son  might  not  prove  to 
be  as  satisfactory  a  result  of  the  intimacy  between  the  two  young 
people,  as  the  parents  on  both  sides  could  possibly  wish  for!  It 
was  perplexing  in  the  extreme.  It  was  almost  as  unintelligible  as 
that  past  mystery — that  forgotten  mystery  now — of  the  journey  to 
London. 

In  the  evening,  Frank  made  his  appearance,  and  announced  that 
his  father  had  mercilessly  sentenced  him  to  leave  Combe-Raven  by 
the  parliamentary  train  the  next  morning.  He  mentioned  this  cir- 
cumstance with  an  air  of  sentimental  resignation ;  and  listened  to 
Mr.  Vanstone's  boisterous  rejoicings  over  his  new  prospects,  with  a 
mild  and  mute  surprise.  His  gentle  melancholy  of  look  and  man- 
ner greatly  assisted  his  personal  advantages.  In  his  own  effeminate 
way,  he  was  more  handsome  than  ever,  that  evening.  His  soft 
brown  eyes  wandered  about  the  room  with  a  melting  tenderness; 
his  hair  was  beautifully  brushed ;  his  delicate  hands  hung  over  the 
arms  of  his  chair  with  a  languid  grace.  He  looked  like  a  conva- 
lescent Apollo.  Never,  on  any  previous  occasion,  had  he  practiced 
more  successfully  the  social  art  which  he  habitually  cultivated — the 
art  of  casting  himself  on  society  in  the  character  of  a  well-bred  In- 
cubus, and  conferring  an  obligation  on  his  fellow-creatures  by  al- 
lowing them  to  sit  under  him.  It  was  undeniably  a  dull  evening. 
All  the  talking  fell  to  the  share  of  Mr.  Vanstone  and  Miss  Garth. 
Mrs.  Vanstone  was  habitually  silent ;  Norah  kept  herself  obstinately 
in  the  background ;  Magdalen  was  quiet  and  undemonstrative  be- 
yond all  former  precedent.  From  first  to  last,  she  kept  rigidly  on 
her  guard.  The  few  meaning  looks  that  she  cast  on  Frank  flashed 
at  him  like  lightning,  and  were  gone  before  any  one  else  could  see 
them.  Even  when  she  brought  him  his  tea;  and  when,  in  doing 
so,  her  self-control  gave  way  under  the  temptation  which  no  worn- 


NO    NAME.  71 

an  can  resist — the  temptation  of  touching  the  man  she  loves — even 
then,  she  held  the  saucer  so  dexterously  that  it  screened  her  hand. 
Frank's  self-possession  was  far  less  steadily  disciplined:  it  only 
lasted  as  long  as  he  remained  passive.  When  he  rose  to  go ;  when 
he  felt  the  warm,  clinging  pressure  of  Magdalen's  fingers  round  his 
hand,  and  the  lock  of  her  hair  which  she  slipped  into  it  at  the  same 
moment,  he  became  awkward  and  confused.  He  might  have  be- 
trayed Magdalen  and  betrayed  himself,  but  for  Mr.  Vanstone,  who 
innocently  covered  his  retreat  by  following  him  out,  and  patting 
him  on  the  shoulder  all  the  way.  "  God  bless  you,  Frank !"  cried 
the  friendly  voice  that  never  had  a  harsh  note  in  it  for  any  body. 
"  Your  fortune's  waiting  for  you.     Go  in,  my  boy — go  in  and  win." 

"  Yes,"  said  Frank.  "  Thank  you.  It  will  be  rather  difficult  to 
go  in  and  win,  at  first.  Of  course,  as  you  have  always  told  me,  a 
man's  business  is  to  conquer  his  difficulties,  and  not  to  talk  about 
them.  At  the  same  time,  I  wish  I  didn't  feel  quite  so  loose  as  I  do 
in  my  figures.  It's  discouraging  to  feel  loose  in  one's  figures. — Oh, 
yes;  I'll  write  and  tell  you  how  I  get  on.  I'm  very  much  obliged 
by  your  kindness,  and  very  sorry  I  couldn't  succeed  with  the  en- 
gineering. I  think  I  should  have  liked  engineering  better  than 
trade.  It  can't  be  helped  now,  can  it  ?  Thank  you,  again.  Good- 
bye." 

So  he  drifted  away  into  the  misty  commercial  future — as  aimless, 
as  helpless,  as  gentleman-like  as  ever. 


CHAPTER  IX. 

Titree  months  passed.  During  that  time  Frank  remained  in 
London ;  pursuing  his  new  duties,  and  writing  occasionally  to  re- 
port himself  to  Mr.  Vanstone,  as  he  had  promised. 

His  letters  were  not  enthusiastic  on  the  subject  of  mercantile  oc- 
cupations. He  described  himself  as  being  still  painfully  loose  in  his 
figures.  He  was  also  more  firmly  persuaded  than  ever — now  when  it 
was  unfortunately  too  late — that  he  preferred  engineering  to  trade. 
In  spite  of  this  conviction ;  in  spite  of  headaches  caused  by  sitting 
on  a  high  stool  and  stooping  over  ledgers  in  unwholesome  air;  in 
spite  of  want  of  society,  and  hasty  breakfasts,  and  bad  dinners  at 
chop-houses,  his  attendance  at  the  office  was  regular,  and  his  dili- 
gence at  the  desk  unremitting.  The  head  of  the  department  in 
which  he  was  working  might  be  referred  to  if  any  corroboration  of 
this  statement  was  desired.  Such  was  the  general  tenor  of  the  let- 
ters; and  Frank's  correspondent  and  Frank's  father  differed  over 
them  as  widely  as  usual.     Mr.  Vanstone  accepted  them,  as  proofs 


72  NO    NAME. 

of  the  steady  development  of  industrious  principles  in  the  writer. 
Mr.  Clare  took  his  own  characteristically  opposite  view.  "  These 
London  men,"  said  the  philosopher,  "  are  not  to  be  trifled  with  by 
louts.  They  have  got  Frank  by  the  scruff  of  the  neck — he  can't 
wriggle  himself  free — and  he  makes  a  merit  of  yielding  to  sheer 
necessity." 

The  three  months'  interval  of  Frank's  probation  in  London  pass- 
ed less  cheerfully  than  usual  in  the  household  at  Combe-Raven. 

As  the  summer  came  nearer  and  nearer,  Mrs.  Vanstone's  spirits,  in 
spite  of  her  resolute  efforts  to  control  them,  became  more  and  more 
depressed. 

"  I  do  my  best,"  she  said  to  Miss  Garth ;  "  I  set  an  example  of 
cheerfulness  to  my  husband  and  my  children — but  I  dread  July." 
Norah's  secret  misgivings  on  her  sister's  account  rendered  her  more 
than  usually  serious  and  uncommunicative,  as  the  year  advanced. 
Even  Mr.  Vanstone,  when  July  drew  nearer,  lost  something  of  his 
elasticity  of  spirit.  He  kept  up  appearances  in  his  wife's  presence 
- — but  on  all  other  occasions  there  was  now  a  perceptible  shade  of 
sadness  in  his  look  and  manner.  Magdalen  was  so  changed  since 
Frank's  departure,  that  she  helped  the  general  depression,  instead 
of  relieving  it.  All  her  movements  had  grown  languid ;  all  her 
usual  occupations  were  pursued  with  the  same  weary  indifference; 
she  spent  hours  alone  in  her  own  room ;  she  lost  her  interest  in  be- 
ing brightly  and  prettily  dressed;  her  eyes  were  heavy,  her  nerves 
were  irritable,  her  complexion  was  altered  visibly  for  the  worse — in 
one  word,  she  had  become  an  oppression  and  a  weariness  to  herself 
and  to  all  about  her.  Stoutly  as  Miss  Garth  contended  with  these 
growing  domestic  difficulties,  her  own  spirits  suffered  in  the  effort. 
Her  memory  reverted,  oftener  and  oftener,  to  the  March  morning 
when  the  master  and  mistress  of  the  house  had  departed  for  London, 
and  when  the  first  serious  change,  for  many  a  year  past,  had  stolen 
over  the  family  atmosphere.  When  was  that  atmosphere  to  be  clear 
again  ?  When  were  the  clouds  of  change  to  pass  off  before  the  re- 
turning sunshine  of  past  and  happier  times  ? 

The  spring  and  the  early  summer  wore  away.    The  dreaded  month 
of  July  came,  with  its  airless  nights,  its  cloudless  mornings,  and  its  < 
sultry  days. 

On  the  ^fteenth  of  the  month,  an  event  happened  which  took 
every  one  but  Norah  by  surprise.  For  the  second  time,  without 
the  slightest  apparent  reason — for  the  second  time,  without  a  word 
of  warning  beforehand — Frank  suddenly  re-appeared  at  his  father's 
cottage. 

Mr.  Clare's  lips  opened  to  hail  his  son's  return,  in  the  old  charac- 
ter of  the  "  bad  shilling ;"  and  closed  again  without  uttering  a  word. 
There  was  a  portentous  composure  in  Frank's  manner  which  showed 


NO    NAME. 


7;; 


that  he  had  other  news  to  communicate  than  the  news  of  his  dis- 
missal. He  answered  his  father's  sardonic  look  of  inquiry,  by  at 
once  explaining  that  a  very  important  proposal  for  his  future  benefit 
had  been  made  to  him,  that  morning,  at  the  office.  His  first  idea 
had  been  to  communicate  the  details  in  writing ;  but  the  partners 
had,  on  reflection,  thought  that  the  necessary  decision  might  be 
more  readily  obtained  by  a  personal  interview  with  his  father  and 
his  friends.  He  had  laid  aside  the  pen  accordingly,  and  had  re- 
signed himself  to  the  railway  on  the  spot. 

After  this  preliminary  statement,  Frank  proceeded  to  describe  the 
proposal  which  his  employers  had  addressed  to  him,  with  every  exter- 
nal appearance  of  viewing  it  in  the  light  of  an  intolerable  hardship. 

The  great  firm  in  the  City  had  obviously  made  a  discovery  in  re- 
lation to  their  clerk,  exactly  similar  to  the  discovery  which  had 
formerly  forced  itself  on  the  engineer  in  relation  to  his  pupil.  The 
young  man,  as  they  politely  phrased  it,  stood  in  need  of  some  special 
stimulant  to  stir  him  up.  His  employers  (acting  under  a  sense  of 
their  obligation  to  the  gentleman  by  whom  Frank  had  been  recom- 
mended) had  considered  the  question  carefully,  and  had  decided 
that  the  one  promising  use  to  which  they  could  put  Mr.  Francis 
Clare  was  to  send  him  forthwith  into  another  quarter  of  the  globe. 

As  a  consequence  of  this  decision,  it  was  now,  therefore,  proposed 
that  he  should  enter  the  house  of  their  correspondents  in  China ; 
that  he  should  remain  there,  familiarizing  himself  thoroughly  on 
the  spot  with  the  tea  trade  and  the  silk  trade  for  five  years ;  and 
that  he  should  return,  at  the  expiration  of  this  period,  to  the  central 
establishment  in  London.  If  he  made  a  fair  use  of  his  opportunities 
in  China,  he  would  come  back,  while  still  a  young  man,  fit  for  a 
position  of  trust  and  emolument,  and  justified  in  looking  forward, 
at  no  distant  date,  to  a  time  when  the  House  would  assist  him  to 
start  in  business  for  himself.  Such  were  the  new  prospects  which 
— to  adopt  Mr.  Clare's  theory — now  forced  themselves  on  the  ever- 
reluctant,  ever-helpless,  and  ever-ungrateful  Frank.  There  was  no 
time  to  be  lost.  The  final  answer  was  to  be  at  the  office  on  "  Mon- 
day, the  twentieth :"  the  correspondents  in  China  were  to  be  written 
to  by  the  mail  on  that  day ;  and  Frank  was  to  follow  the  letter  by 
the  next  opportunity,  or  to  resign  his  chance  in  favor  of  some  more 
enterprising  young  man. 

Mr.  Clare's  reception  of  this  extraordinary  news  was  startling  in 
the  extreme.  The  glorious  prospect  of  his  son's  banishment  to 
China  appeared  to  turn  his  brain.  The  firm  pedestal  of  his  philoso- 
phy sank  under  him;  the  prejudices  of  society  recovered  their  hold 
on  his  mind.  He  seized  Frank  by  the  arm,  and  actually  accompanied 
him  to  Combe-Raven,  in  the  amazing  character  of  visitor  to  the  house ! 

"  Here  I  am  with  my  lout,"  said  Mr.  Clare,  before  a  word  could 

4 


74  NO    NAME. 

be  uttered  by  the  astonished  family.  "Hear  his  story,  all  of  you. 
It  has  reconciled  me,  for  the  first  time  in  my  life,  to  the  anomaly  of 
his  existence."  Frank  ruefully  narrated  the  Chinese  proposal  for 
the  second  time,  and  attempted  to  attach  to  it  his  own  supplement- 
ary statement  of  objections  and  difficulties.  His  father  stopped  him 
at  the  first  word,  pointed  peremptorily  south-eastward  (from  Som- 
ersetshire to  China) ;  and  said,  without  an  instant's  hesitation : 
"  Go !"  Mr.  Vanstone,  basking  in  golden  visions  of  his  young 
friend's  future,  echoed  that  monosyllabic  decision  with  all  his  heart. 
Mrs.  Vanstone,  Miss  Garth,  even  Norah  herself,  spoke  to  the  same 
purpose.  Frank  was  petrified  by  an  absolute  unanimity  of  opinion 
which  he  had  not  anticipated ;  and  Magdalen  was  caught,  for  once 
in  her  life,  at  the  end  of  all  her  resources. 

So  far  as  practical  results  were  concerned,  the  sitting  of  the  family 
council  began  and  ended  with  the  general  opinion  that  Frank  must 
go.  Mr.  Vanstone's  faculties  were  so  bewildered  by  the  son's  sud- 
den arrival,  the  father's  unexpected  visit,  and  the  news  they  both 
brought  with  them,  that  he  petitioned  for  an  adjournment  before 
the  necessary  arrangements  connected  with  his  young-  friend's  de- 
parture were  considered  in  detail.  "  Suppose  we  all  sleep  upon  it?" 
he  said.  "  To-morrow,  our  heads  will  feel  a  little  steadier ;  and  to- 
morrow will  be  time  enough  to  decide  all  uncertainties."  This  sug- 
gestion was  readily  adopted ;  and  all  further  proceedings  stood  ad- 
journed until  the  next  day. 

That  next  day  was  destined  to  decide  more  uncertainties  than 
Mr.  Vanstone  dreamed  of. 

Early  in  the  morning,  after  making  tea  by  herself  as  usual,  Miss 
Garth  took  her  parasol  and  strolled  into  the  garden.  She  had 
slept  ill ;  and  ten  minutes  in  the  open  air  before  the  family  assem- 
bled at  breakfast  might  help  to  compensate  her,  as  she  thought,  for 
the  loss  of  her  night's  rest. 

She  wandered  to  the  outermost  boundary  of  the  flower-garden, 
and  then  returned  by  another  path,  which  led  back,  past  the  side 
of  an  ornamental  summer-house  commanding  a  view  over  the  fields 
from  a  corner  of  the  lawn.  A  slight  noise — like,  and  yet  not  like, 
the  chirruping  of  a  bird  —  caught  her  ear  as  she  approached  the 
summer-house.  She  stepped  round  to  the  entrance ;  looked  in ;  and 
discovered  Magdalen  and  Frank  seated  close  together.  To  Miss 
Garth's  horror,  Magdalen's  arm  was  unmistakably  round  Frank's 
neck ;  and,  worse  still,  the  position  of  her  face,  at  the  moment  of 
discovery,  showed  beyond  all  doubt  that  she  had  just  been  offering 
to  the  victim  of  Chinese  commerce  the  first  and  foremost  of  all  the 
consolations  which  a  woman  can  bestow  on  a  man.  In  plainer 
words,  she  had  just  given  Frank  a  kiss. 


NO    NAME.  75 

In  the  presence  of  such  an  emergency  as  now  confronted  her,  Miss 
Garth  felt  instinctively  that  all  ordinary  phrases  of  reproof  would  be 
phrases  thrown  away. 

"  I  presume,"  she  remarked,  addressing  Magdalen  with  the  merci- 
less self-possession  of  a  middle-aged  lady,  unprovided  for  the  occa- 
sion with  any  kissing  remembrances  of  her  own — "  I  presume  (what- 
ever excuses  your  effrontery  may  suggest)  you  will  not  deny  that 
my  duty  compels  me  to  mention  what  I  have  just  seen  to  your  fa- 
ther ?" 

"  I  will  save  you  the  trouble,"  replied  Magdalen,  composedly.  "  I 
will  mention  it  to  him  myself." 

With  those  words,  she  looked  round  at  Frank,  standing  trebly 
helpless  in  a  corner  of  the  summer-house.  "  You  shall  hear  what 
happens,"  she  said,  with  her  bright  smile.  "And  so  shall  you,"  she 
added  for  Miss  Garth's  especial  benefit,  as  she  sauntered  past  the 
governess,  on  her  way  back  to  the  breakfast-table.  The  eyes  of  Miss 
Garth  followed  her  indignantly ;  and  Frank  slipped  out  on  his  side, 
at  that  favorable  opportunity. 

Under  these  circumstances,  there  was  but  one  course  that  any  re- 
spectable woman  could  take — she  could  only  shudder.  Miss  Garth 
registered  her  protest  in  that  form,  and  returned  to  the  house. 

When  breakfast  was  over,  and  when  Mr.  Vanstone's  hand  de- 
scended to  his  pocket  in  search  of  his  cigar-case,  Magdalen  rose; 
looked  significantly  at  Miss  Garth;  and  followed  her  father  into 
the  hall. 

"  Papa,"  she  said,  "  I  want  to  speak  to  you  this  morning — in  pri- 
vate." 

"Ay !  ay  !"  returned  Mr.  Vanstone.     "  What  about,  my  dear !" 

"  About — "  Magdalen  hesitated,  searching  for  a  satisfactory  form 
of  expression,  and  found  it.     "  About  business,  papa,"  she  said. 

Mr.  Vanstone  took  his  garden  hat  from  the  hall  table — opened  his 
eyes  in  mute  perplexity — attempted  to  associate  in  his  mind  the  two 
extravagantly  dissimilar  ideas  of  Magdalen  and  "  business  " — failed 
— and  led  the  way  resignedly  into  the  garden. 

His  daughter  took  his  arm,  and  walked  with  him  to  a  shady  seat 
at  a  convenient  distance  from  the  house.  She  dusted  the  seat  with 
her  smart  silk  apron,  before  her  father  occupied  it.  Mr.  Vanstone 
was  not  accustomed  to  such  an  extraordinary  act  of  attention  as 
this.  He  sat  down,  looking  more  puzzled  than  ever.  Magdalen 
immediately  placed  herself  on  his  knee,  and  rested  her  head  com- 
fortably on  his  shoulder. 

"  Am  I  heavy,  papa  ?"  she  asked. 

"  Yes,  my  dear,  you  are,"  said  Mr.  Vanstone — "  but  not  too  heavy 
for  me.  Stop  on  your  perch,  if  you  like  it.  Well  ?  And  what  may 
this  business  happen  to  be  ?" 


76  NO    NAME. 

"  It  begins  with  a  question." 

"  Ah,  indeed  ?  That  doesn't  surprise  me.  Business  with  youl 
sex,  my  dear,  always  begins  with  questions.     Go  on." 

"  Papa !  do  you  ever  intend  allowing  ine  to  be  married?" 

Mr.  Vanstone's  eyes  opened  wider  and  wider.  The  question,  to 
use  his  own  phrase,  completely  staggered  him. 

"  This  is  business  with  a  vengeance  !"  he  said.  "  Why,  Magdalen ! 
what  have  you  got  in  that  harum-scarum  head  of  yours  now  ?" 

"  I  don't  exactly  know,  papa.     Will  you  answer  my  question  ?" 

"  I  will  if  I  can,  my  dear ;  you  rather  stagger  me.  Well,  I  don't 
know.  Yes  ;  I  suppose  I  must  let  you  be  married  one  of  these  days 
. — if  we  can  find  a  good  husband  for  you.  How  hot  your  face  is ! 
Lift  it  up,  and  let  the  air  blow  over  it.  You  won't  ?  Well — have 
your  own  way.  If  talking  of  business  means  tickling  your  cheek 
against  my  whisker,  I've  nothing  to  say  against  it.  Go  on,  my  dear. 
What's  the  next  question?     Come  to  the  point." 

She  was  far  too  genuine  a  woman  to  do  any  thing  of  the  sort. 
She  skirted  round  the  point,  and  calculated  her  distance  to  the 
nicety  of  a  hair-breadth. 

"  We  were  all  very  much  surprised  yesterday — were  we  not,  papa  ? 
Frank  is  wonderfully  lucky,  isn't  he  ?" 

"  He's  the  luckiest  dog  I  ever  came  across,"  said  Mr.  Vanstone. 
'•'  But  what  has  that  got  to  do  with  this  business  of  yours  ?  I  dare 
say  you  see  your  way,  Magdalen.     Hang  me  if  I  can  see  mine !" 

She  skirted  a  little  nearer. 

"  I  suppose  he  will  make  his  fortune  in  China  ?"  she  said.  "  It's 
a  long  way  off,  isn't  it  ?  Did  you  observe,  papa,  that  Frank  looked 
sadly  out  of  spirits  yesterday  ?" 

"  I  was  so  surprised  by  the  news,"  said  Mr.  Vanstone,  "  and  so 
staggered  by  the  sight  of  old  Clare's  sharp  nose  in  my  house,  that  I 
didn't  much  notice.  Now  you  remind  me  of  it — yes.  I  don't  think 
Frank  took  kindly  to  his  own  good  luck ;  not  kindly  at  all." 

"  Do  you  wonder  at  that,  papa  ?" 

"  Yes,  my  dear ;  I  do,  rather." 

"  Don't  you  think  it's  hard  to  be  sent  away  for  five  years,  to  make 
your  fortune  among  hateful  savages,  and  lose  sight  of  your  friends 
at  home  for  all  that  long  time  ?  Don't  you  think  Frank  will  miss 
us  sadly  ?     Don't  you,  papa  ? — don't  you  ?" 

"  Gently,  Magdalen !  I'm  a  little  too  old  for  those  long  arms  of 
yours  to  throttle  me  in  fun. — You're  right,  my  love.  Nothing  in 
this  world  without  a  drawback.  Frank  will  miss  his  friends  in 
England :  there's  no  denying  that." 

"  You  always  liked  Frank.     And  Frank  always  liked  you." 

"  Yes,  yes — a  good  fellow ;  a  quiet,  good  fellow.  Frank  and  I 
have  always  got  on  smoothly  together." 


HE    MK.iHT    HARRY    ME. 


NO    NAME.  79 

"  You  have  got  on  like  father  and  son,  haven't  you  ?" 

"  Certainly,  my  dear." 

"  Perhaps  you  will  think  it  harder  on  him  when  he  has  gone 
than  you  think  it  now  ?" 

"  Likely  enough,  Magdalen ;  I  don't  say  no." 

"  Perhaps  you  will  wish  he  had  sto]Dped  in  England  ?  Whj 
shouldn't  he  stop  in  England,  and  do  as  well  as  if  he  went  to 
China  ?" 

"  My  dear !  he  has  no  prospects  in  England.  I  wish  he  had,  for 
his  own  sake.     I  wish  the  lad  well,  with  all  my  heart." 

"  May  I  wish  him  well  too,  papa — with  all  my  heart  ?" 

"  Certainly,  my  love — your  old  playfellow — why  not  ?  What's 
the  matter  ?  God  bless  my  soul,  what  is  the  girl  crying  about  ? 
One  would  think  Frank  was  transported  for  life.  You  goose  !  You 
know,  as  well  as  I  do,  he  is  going  to  China  to  make  his  fortune." 

"  He  doesn't  want  to  make  his  fortune — he  might  do  much  bet- 
ter." 

"  The  deuce  he  might !     How,  I  should  like  to  know  ?" 

"  I'm  afraid  to  tell  you.  I'm  afraid  you'll  laugh  at  me.  Will  you 
promise  not  to  laugh  at  me  ?" 

"Any  thing  to  please  you, my  dear.  Yes:  I  promise.  Now,  then, 
out  with  it !     How  might  Frank  do  better  ?" 

"  He  might  marry  Me." 

If  the  summer  scene  which  then  spread  before  Mr.  Vanstone's 
eyes  had  suddenly  changed  to  a  dreary  winter  view — if  the  trees 
had  lost  all  their  leaves,  and  the  green  fields  had  turned  white  with 
snow  in  an  instant — his  face  could  hardly  have  expressed  greater 
amazement  than  it  displayed  when  his  daughter's  faltering  voice 
spoke  those  four  last  words.  He  tried  to  look  at  her — but  she 
steadily  refused  him  the  opportunity:  she  kept  her  face  hidden 
over  his  shoulder.  Was  she  in  earnest  ?  His  cheek,  still  wet  with 
her  tears,  answered  for  her.  There  was  a  long  pause  of  silence ; 
she  waited — with  unaccustomed  patience,  she  waited  for  him  to 
speak.  He  roused  himself,  and  spoke  these  words  only :  "  You 
surprise  me,  Magdalen ;  you  surprise  me,  more  than  I  can  say." 

At  the  altered  tone  of  his  voice — altered  to  a  quiet,  fatherly  seri- 
ousness— Magdalen's  arms  clung  round  him  closer  than  before. 

"  Have  I  disappointed  you,  papa  ?"  she  asked,  faintly.  "  Don't 
say  I  have  disappointed  you !  Who  am  I  to  tell  my  secret  to,  if 
not  to  you  ?  Don't  let  him  go — don't !  don't !  You  will  break  his 
heart.  He  is  afraid  to  tell  his  father;  he  is  even  afraid  you  might 
be  angry  with  him.  There  is  nobody  to  speak  for  us,  except — ex- 
cept me.  Oh,  don't  let  him  go !  Don't  for  his  sake — "  she  whis- 
pered the  next  words  in  a  kiss — "  Don't  for  Mine  !" 

Her  father's  kind  face  saddened  ;  he  sighed,  and  patted  her  fail 


80  NO   NAME. 

head  tenderly.  "Hush,  my  love,"  he  said,  almost  in  a  whisper- 
"  hush !"  She  little  knew  what  a  revelation  every  word,  every  ac- 
tion that  escaped  her,  now  opened  before  him.  She  had  made  him 
her  grown-up  playfellow,  from  her  childhood  to  that  day.  She  had 
romped  with  him  in  her  frocks,  she  had  gone  on  romping  with  him 
in  her  gowns.  He  had  never  been  long  enough  separated  from  her 
to  have  the  external  changes  in  his  daughter  forced  on  his  attention. 
His  artless,  fatherly  experience  of  her  had  taught  him  that  she  was 
a  taller  child  in  later  years — and  had  taught  him  little  more.  And 
now,  in  one  breathless  instant,  the  conviction  that  she  was  a  woman 
rushed  over  his  mind.  He  felt  it  in  the  trouble  of  her  bosom  press- 
ed against  his ;  in  the  nervous  thrill  of  her  arms  clasped  around  his 
neck.  The  Magdalen  of  his  innocent  experience,  a  woman — with 
the  master-passion  of  her  sex  in  possession  of  her  heart  already  ! 

"  Have  you  thought  long  of  this,  my  dear  ?"  he  asked,  as  soon  as 
he  could  speak  composedly.     "Are  you  sure —  ?" 

She  answered  the  question  before  he  could  finish  it. 

"  Sure  I  love  him  ?"  she  said.  "  Oh  what  words  can  say  Yes  for 
me,  as  I  want  to  say  it  ?  I  love  him — !"  Her  voice  faltered  softly ; 
and  her  answer  ended  in  a  sigh. 

"  You  are  very  young.  You  and  Frank,  my  love,  are  both  very 
young." 

She  raised  her  head  from  his  shoulder  for  the  first  time.  The 
thought  and  its  expression  flashed  from  her  at  the  same  moment. 

"  Are  we  much  younger  than  you  and  mamma  were  ?"  she  asked, 
smiling  through  her  tears. 

She  tried  to  lay  her  head  back  in  its  old  position ;  but  as  she 
spoke  those  words,  her  father  caught  her  round  the  waist,  forced 
her,  before  she  was  aware  of  it,  to  look  him  in  the  face — and  kissed 
her,  with  a  sudden  outburst  of  tenderness  which  brought  the  tears 
thronging  back  thickly  into  her  eyes.  "  Not  much  younger,  my 
child,"  he  said,  in  low,  broken  tones — "  not  much  younger  than 
your  mother  and  I  were."  He  put  her  away  from  him,  and  rose 
from  the  seat,  and  turned  his  head  aside  quickly.  "  Wait  here,  and 
compose  yourself;  I  will  go  indoors  and  speak  to  your  mother." 
His  voice  trembled  over  those  parting  words ;  and  he  left  her  with- 
out once  looking  round  again. 

She  waited — waited  a  weary  time ;  and  he  never  came  back.  At 
last  her  growing  anxiety  urged  her  to  follow  him  into  the  house. 
A  new  timidity  throbbed  in  her  heart,  as  she  doubtingly  approach- 
ed the  door.  Never  had  she  seen  the  depths  of  her  father's  simple 
nature  stirred  as  they  had  been  stirred  by  her  confession.  She  al- 
most dreaded  her  next  meeting  with  him.  She  wandered  softly  to 
and  fro  in  the  hall,  with  a  shyness  unaccountable  to  herself;  with 
a  terror  of  being  discovered  and  spoken  to  by  her  sister  or  Miss 


NO   NAME.  81 

Garth,  which  made  her  nervously  susceptible  to  the  slightest  noises 
in  the  house.  The  door  of  the  morning-room  opened  while  her 
back  was  turned  toward  it.  She  started  violently,  as  she  looked 
round  and  saw  her  father  in  the  hall :  her  heart  beat  faster  and 
faster,  and  she  felt  herself  turning  pale.  A  second  look  at  him,  as 
he  came  nearer,  re-assured  her.  He  was  composed  again,  though 
not  so  cheerful  as  usual.  She  noticed  that  he  advanced  and  spoke 
to  her  with  a  forbearing  gentleness,  which  was  more  like  his  man- 
ner to  her  mother  than  his  ordinary  manner  to  herself. 

"  Go  in,  my  love,"  he  said,  opening  the  door  for  her  which  he  had 
just  closed.  "Tell  your  mother  all  you  have  told  me — and  more, 
if  you  have  more  to  say.  She  is  better  prepared  for  you  than  I  was. 
We  will  take  to-day  to  think  of  it,  Magdalen ;  and  to-morrow  you 
shall  know,  and  Frank  shall  know,  what  we  decide." 

Her  eyes  brightened,  as  they  looked  into  his  face  and  saw  the  de- 
cision there  already,  with  the  double  penetration  of  her  womanhood 
and  her  love.  Happy,  and  beautiful  in  her  happiness,  she  put  his 
hand  to  her  lips,  and  went,  without  hesitation,  into  the  morning- 
room.  There,  her  father's  words  had  smoothed  the  way  for  her ; 
there,  the  first  shock  of  the  surprise  was  past  and  over,  and  only  the 
pleasure  of  it  remained.  Her  mother  had  been  her  age  once ;  her 
mother  would  know  how  fond  she  was  of  Frank.  So  the  coming 
interview  was  anticipated  in  her  thoughts;  and — except  that  there 
was  an  unaccountable  appearance  of  restraint  in  Mrs.  Vanstone's 
first  reception  of  her — was  anticipated  aright.  After  a  little,  the 
mother's  questions  came  more  and  more  unreservedly  from  the 
sweet,  unforgotten  experience  of  the  mother's  heart.  She  lived 
again  through  her  own  young  days  of  hope  and  love  in  Magdalen's 
replies. 

The  next  morning  the  all-important  decision  was  announced  in 
words.  Mr.  Vanstone  took  his  daughter  up  stairs  into  her  mother's 
room,  and  there  placed  before  her  the  result  of  the  yesterday's  con- 
sultation, and  of  the  night's  reflection  which  had  followed  it.  He 
spoke  with  perfect  kindness  and  self-possession  of  manner — but  in 
fewer  and  more  serious  words  than  usual;  and  he  held  his  wife's 
hand  tenderly  in  his  own,  all  through  the  interview. 

He  informed  Magdalen  that  neither  he  nor  her  mother  felt  them- 
selves justified  in  blaming  her  attachment  to  Frank.  It  had  been 
in  part,  perhaps,  the  natural  consequence  of  her  childish  familiarity 
with  him ;  in  part,  also,  the  result  of  the  closer  intimacy  between 
them  which  the  theatrical  entertainment  had  necessarily  produced. 
At  the  same  time,  it  was  now  the  duty  of  her  parents  to  put  that  at- 
tachment, on  both  sides,  to  a  proper  test — for  her  sake,  because  her 
happy  future  was  their  dearest  care ;  for  Frank's  sake,  because  they 
were  bound  to  give  him  the  opportunity  of  showing  himself  worthy 


82  NO   NAME. 

of  the  trust  confided  in  him.  They  were  both  conscious  of  being 
strongly  prejudiced  in  Frank's  favor.  His  father's  eccentric  con- 
duct had  made  the  lad  the  object  of  their  compassion  and  their 
care  from  his  earliest  years.  He  (and  his  younger  brothers)  had  al- 
most filled  the  places  to  them  of  those  other  children  of  their  own 
whom  they  had  lost.  Although  they  firmly  believed  their  good 
opinion  of  Frank  to  be  well  founded — still,  in  the  interest  of  their 
daughter's  happiness,  it  was  necessary  to  put  that  opinion  firmly 
to  the  proof,  by  fixing  certain  conditions,  and  by  interposing  a  year 
of  delay  between  the  contemplated  marriage  and  the  present  time. 

During  that  year,  Frank  was  to  remain  at  the  office  in  London ; 
his  employers  being  informed  beforehand  that  family  circumstances 
prevented  his  accepting  their  offer  of  employment  in  China.  He 
was  to  consider  this  concession  as  a  recognition  of  the  attachment 
between  Magdalen  and  himself,  on  certain  terms  only.  If,  during 
the  year  of  probation,  he  failed  to  justify  the  confidence  placed  in 
him — a  confidence  which  had  led  Mr.  Vanstone  to  take  unreserved- 
ly upon  himself  the  whole  responsibility  of  Frank's  future  prospects 
— the  marriage  scheme  was  to  be  considered,  from  that  moment,  as 
at  an  end.  If,  on  the  other  hand,  the  result  to  which  Mr.  Vanstone 
confidently  looked  forward,  really  occurred — if  Frank's  probation- 
ary year  proved  his  claim  to  the  most  precious  trust  that  could  be 
placed  in  his  hands  —  then,  Magdalen  herself  should  reward  him 
with  all  that  a  woman  can  bestow ;  and  the  future,  which  his 
present  employers  had  placed  before  him  as  the  result  of  a  five 
years'  residence  in  China,  should  be  realized  in  one  year's  time,  by 
the  dowry  of  his  young  wife. 

As  her  father  drew  that  picture  of  the  future,  the  outburst  of 
Magdalen's  gratitude  could  no  longer  be  restrained.  She  was  deep- 
ly touched — she  spoke  from  her  inmost  heart.  Mr.  Vanstone  wait- 
ed until  his  daughter  and  his  wife  were  composed  again;  and  then 
added  the  last  words  of  explanation  which  were  now  left  for  him  to 
speak. 

"  You  understand,  my  love,"  he  said,  "  that  I  am  not  anticipating 
Frank's  living  in  idleness  on  his  wife's  means  ?  My  plan  for  him  is 
that  he  should  still  profit  by  the  interest  which  his  present  eniploy- 
ers  take  in  him.  Their  knowledge  of  affairs  iu  the  City  will  soon 
place  a  good  partnership  at  his  disposal,  and  you  will  give  him  the 
money  to  buy  it  out  of  hand.  I  shall  limit  the  sum,  my  dear,  to  half 
your  fortune ;  and  the  other  half  I  shall  have  settled  upon  yourself. 
We  shall  all  be  alive  and  hearty,  I  hope" — he  looked  tenderly  at 
his  wife  as  he  said  those  words — "  all  alive  and  hearty  at  the  year's 
end.  But  if  I  am  gone,  Magdalen,  it  will  make  no  difference.  My 
will — made  long  before  I  ever  thought  of  having  a  son-in-law — di- 
vides my  fortune  into  two  equal  parts.    One  part  goes  to  your 


NO    NAME.  83 

mother ,  and  the  other  part  is  fairly  divided  between  my  children. 
You  will  have  your  share  on  your  wedding-day  (and  Norah  will 
have  hers  when  she  marries)  from  my  own  hand,  if  I  live ;  and  under 
my  will  if  I  die.  There!  there!  no  gloomy  faces,"  he  said,  with  a 
momentary  return  of  his  every-day  good  spirits.  "  Your  mother  and 
I  mean  to  live  and  see  Frank  a  great  merchant.  I  shall  leave  you, 
my  dear,  to  enlighten  the  son  on  our  new  projects,  while  I  walk  over 
to  the  cottage — " 

He  stopped ;  his  eyebrows  contracted  a  little ;  and  he  looked  aside 
hesitatingly  at  Mrs.  Vanstone. 

"  What  must  you  do  at  the  cottage,  papa  ?"  asked  Magdalen,  after 
having  vainly  waited  for  him  to  finish  the  sentence  of  his  own  accord. 

"  I  must  consult  Frank's  father,"  he  replied.  "  We  must  not  for- 
get that  Mr.  Clare's  consent  is  still  wanting  to  settle  this  matter. 
And  as  time  presses,  and  we  don't  know  what  difficulties  he  may 
not  raise,  the  sooner  I  see  him  the  better." 

He  gave  that  answer  in  low,  altered  tones ;  and  rose  from  his  chair 
in  a  half-reluctant,  half-resigned  manner,  which  Magdalen  observed 
with  secret  alarm. 

She  glanced  inquiringly  at  her  mother.  To  all  appearance,  Mrs. 
Vanstone  had  been  alarmed  by  the  change  in  him  also.  She  looked 
anxious  and  uneasy ;  she  turned  her  face  away  on  the  sofa  pillow — ■ 
turned  it  suddenly,  as  if  she  was  in  pain. 

"Are  you  not  well,  mamma?"  asked  Magdalen. 

"  Quite  well,  my  love,"  said  Mrs.  Vanstone,  shortly  and  sharply, 
without  turning  round.     "  Leave  me  a  Uttle — I  only  want  rest." 

Magdalen  went  out  with  her  father. 

"Papa!"  she  whispered  anxiously,  as  they  descended  the  stairs' 
"  you  don't  think  Mr.  Clare  will  say  No  ?" 

"  I  can't  tell  beforehand,"  answered  Mr.  Vanstone.  "  I  hope  he 
will  say  Yes." 

"  There  is  no  reason  why  he  should  say  any  thing  else — is  there  ?" 

She  put  the  question  faintly,  while  he  was  getting  his  hat  and 
stick ;  and  he  did  not  appear  to  hear  her.  Doubting  whether  she 
should  repeat  it  or  not,  she  accompanied  him  as  far  as  the  garden, 
on  his  way  to  Mr.  Clare's  cottage.  He  stopped  her  on  the  lawn,  and 
s  mt  her  back  to  the  house. 

"  You  have  nothing  on  your  head,  my  dear,"  he  said.  "  If  you 
want  to  be  in  the  garden,  don't  forget  how  hot  the  sun  is  —  don't 
come  out  without  your  hat." 

He  walked  on  toward  the  cottage. 

She  waited  a  moment,  and  looked  after  him.  She  missed  the 
customary  flourish  of  his  stick;  she  saw  his  little  Scotch  terrier, 
who  had  run  out  at  his  heels,  barking  and  capering  about  him  un- 
noticed. He  was  out  of  spirits ;  he  was  strangely  out  of  spirits, 
What  did  it  mean  ? 


84  NO    NAME. 


CHAPTER  X. 

On  returning  to  the  house,  Magdalen  felt  her  shoulder  suddenly 
couched  from  behind  as  she  crossed  the  hall.  She  turned,  and  con- 
fronted her  sister.  Before  she  could  ask  any  questions,  Norah  con- 
fusedly addressed  her,  in  these  words :  "  I  beg  your  pardon ;  I  beg 
you  to  forgive  ine." 

Magdalen  looked  at  her  sister  in  astonishment.  All  memory,  on 
her  side,  of  the  sharp  words  which  had  passed  between  them  in  the 
shrubbery,  was  lost  in  the  new  interests  that  now  absorbed  her ; 
lost  as  completely  as  if  the  angry  interview  had  never  taken  place. 
"  Forgive  you  !"  she  repeated,  amazedly.     "  What  for?" 

"  I  have  heard  of  your  new  prospects,"  pursued  Norah,  speaking 
with  a  mechanical  submissiveness  of  manner  which  seemed  almost 
ungracious ;  "  I  wished  to  set  things  right  between  us ;  I  wished  to 
say  I  was  sorry  for  what  happened.  Will  you  forget  it  ?  Will  you 
forget  and  forgive  what  happened  in  the  shrubbery  ?"  She  tried  to 
proceed ;  but  her  inveterate  reserve — or,  perhaps,  her  obstinate  reli- 
ance on  her  own  opinions — silenced  her  at  those  last  words.  Her 
face  clouded  over  on  a  sudden.  Before  her  sister  could  answer  her, 
she  turned  away  abruptly  and  ran  up  stairs. 

The  door  of  the  library  opened,  before  Magdalen  could  follow 
her ;  and  Miss  Garth  advanced  to  express  the  sentiments  proper  to 
the  occasion. 

They  were  not  the  mechanically  -  submissive  sentiments  which 
Magdalen  had  just  heard.  Norah  had  straggled  against  her  rooted 
distrust  of  Frank,  in  deference  to  the  unanswerable  decision  of  both 
her  parents  in  his  favor;  and  had  suppressed  the  open  expression 
of  her  antipathy,  though  the  feeling  itself  remained  unconquered. 
Miss  Garth  had  made  no  such  concession  to  the  master  and  mistress 
of  the  house.  She  had  hitherto  held  the  position  of  a  high  authori- 
ty on  all  domestic  questions ;  and  she  flatly  declined  to  get  off  her 
pedestal  in  deference  to  any  change  in  the  family  circumstances,  no 
matter  how  amazing  or  how  unexpected  that  change  might  be. 

"  Pray  accept  my  congratulations,"  said  Miss  Garth,  bristling  all 
over  with  implied  objections  to  Frank — "  my  congratulations,  and 
my  apologies.  When  I  caught  you  kissing  Mr.  Francis  Clare  in  the 
summer-house,  I  had  no  idea  you  were  engaged  in  carrying  out  the 
intentions  of  your  parents.  I  offer  no  opinion  on  the  subject.  I 
merely  regret  my  own  accidental  appearance  in  the  character  of  an 


NO    NAME.  85 

Obstacle  to  the  course  of  true-love — which  appears  to  run  smooth 
in  summer-houses,  whatever  Shakspeare  may  say  to  the  contrary. 
Consider  me  for  the  future,  if  you  please,  as  an  Obstacle  removed. 
May  you  be  happy !"  Miss  Garth's  lips  closed  on  that  last  sentence 
like  a  trap,  and  Miss  Garth's  eyes  looked  ominously  prophetic  into 
the  matrimonial  future. 

If  Magdalen's  anxieties  had  not  been  far  too  serious  to  allow  her 
the  customary  free  use  of  her  tongue,  she  would  have  been  ready  on 
the  instant  with  an  appropriately  satirical  answer.  As  it  was,  Miss 
Garth  simply  irritated  her.  "  Pooh !"  she  said — and  ran  up  stairs 
to  her  sister's  room. 

She  knocked  at  the  door,  and  there  was  no  answer.  She  tried  the 
door,  and  it  resisted  her  from  the  inside.  The  sullen  unmanageable 
Norah  was  locked  in. 

Under  other  circumstances,  Magdalen  would  not  have  been  satis- 
fied with  knocking — she  would  have  called  through  the  door  loudly 
and  more  loudly,  till  the  house  was  disturbed,  and  she  had  carried 
her  point.  But  the  doubts  and  fears  of  the  morning  had  unnerved 
her  already.  She  went  down  stairs  again  softly,  and  took  her  hat 
from  the  stand  in  the  hall.  "  He  told  me  to  put  my  hat  on,"  she 
said  to  herself,  with  a  meek  filial  docility  which  was  totally  out  of 
her  character. 

She  went  into  the  garden,  on  the  shrubbery  side ;  and  waited 
there  to  catch  the  first  sight  of  her  father  on  his  return.  Half  an 
hour  passed ;  forty  minutes  passed — and  then  his  voice  reached  her 
from  among  the  distant  trees.  "  Come  in  to  heel !"  she  heard  him 
call  out  loudly  to  the  dog.  Her  face  turned  pale.  "  He's  angry 
with  Snap  !"  she  exclaimed  to  herself  in  a  whisper.  The  next  min- 
ute he  appeared  in  view  ;  walking  rapidly,  with  his  head  down,  and 
Snap  at  his  heels  in  disgrace.  The  sudden  excess  of  her  alarm  as 
she  observed  those  ominous  signs  of  something  wrong  rallied  her 
natural  energy,  and  determined  her  desperately  on  knowing  the 
worst. 

She  walked  straight  forward  to  meet  her  father. 

"  Your  face  tells  your  news,"  she  said,  faintly.  "  Mr.  Clare  has 
been  as  heartless  as  usual — Mr.  Clare  has  said  No  ?" 

Her  father  turned  on  her  with  a  sudden  severity,  so  entirely  un- 
paralleled in  her  experience  of  him,  that  she  started  back  in  down- 
right terror. 

"Magdalen!"  he  said;  "whenever  you  speak  of  my  old  friend 
and  neighbor  again,  bear  this  in  mind :  Mr.  Clare  has  just  laid  me 
under  an  obligation  which  I  shall  remember  gratefully  to  the  end 
of  my  life." 

He  stopped  suddenly,  after  saying  those  remarkable  words.  See- 
ing that  he  had  startled  her,  his  natural  kindness  prompted  him 


86  NO    NAME. 

instantly  to  soften  the  reproof,  and  to  end  the  suspense  from  which 
she  was  plainly  suffering.  "  Give  me  a  kiss,  my  love,"  he  resumed ; 
"  and  I'll  tell  you  in  return  that  Mr.  Clare  has  said — Yes." 

She  attempted  to  thank  him ;  but  the  sudden  luxury  of  relief  was 
too  much  for  her.  She  could  only  cling  round  his  neck  in  silence. 
He  felt  her  trembling  from  head  to  foot,  and  said  a  few  words  to 
calm  her.  At  the  altered  tones  of  his  master's  voice,  Snap's  meek 
c-ail  re-appeared  fiercely  from  between  his  legs;  and  Snap's  lungs 
modestly  tested  his  position  with  a  brief  experimental  bark.  The 
dog's  quaintly  appropriate  assertion  of  himself  on  his  old  footing 
was  the  interruption  of  all  others  which  was  best  fitted  to  restore 
Magdalen  to  herself.  She  caught  the  shaggy  little  terrier  up  in  her 
arms,  and  kissed  him  next.  "  You  darling,"  she  exclaimed,  "  you're 
almost  as  glad  as  I  am !"  She  turned  again  to  her  father,  with  a 
look  of  tender  reproach.  "  You  frightened  me,  papa,"  she  said 
"  You  were  so  unlike  yourself." 

"  I  shall  be  right  again  to-morrow,  my  dear.  I  am  a  little  upset 
to-day." 

"  Not  by  me  ?" 

"  No,  no." 
.  "  By  something  you  have  heard  at  Mr.  Clare's  ?" 

"  Yes  —  nothing  you  need  alarm  yourself  about ;  nothing  that 
won't  wear  off  by  to-morrow.  Let  me  go  now,  my  dear,  I  have  a 
letter  to  write ;  and  I  want  to  speak  to  your  mother." 

He  left  her,  and  went  on  to  the  house.  Magdalen  lingered  a  lit- 
tle on  the  lawn,  to  feel  all  the  happiness  of  her  new  sensations — then 
turned  away  toward  the  shrubbery,  to  enjoy  the  higher  luxury  of 
communicating  them.  The  dog  followed  her.  She  whistled,  and 
clapped  her  hands.  "  Find  him !"  she  said,  with  beaming  eyes. 
"  Find  Frank  !"  Snap  scampered  into  the  shrubbery,  with  a  blood- 
thirsty snarl  at  starting.  Perhaps  he  had  mistaken  his  young  mis- 
tress, and  considered  himself  her  emissary  in  search  of  a  rat  ? 

Meanwhile  Mr.  Vanstone  entered  the  house.  He  met  his  wife 
slowly  descending  the  stairs,  and  advanced  to  give  her  his  arm. 
"How  has  it  ended  ?"  she  asked,  anxiously,  as  he  led  her  to  the  sofa. 

"  Happily — as  we  hoped  it  would,"  answered  her  husband.  "  My 
old  friend  has  justified  my  opinion  of  him." 

"  Thank  God  !"  said  Mrs.  Vanstone,  fervently.  "  Did  you  feel  it, 
Jove  ?"  she  asked,  as  her  husband  arranged  the  sofa  pillows — "  did 
you  feel  it  as  painfully  as  I  feared  you  would  ?" 

"  I  had  a  duty  to  do,  my  dear — and  I  did  it." 

After  replying  in  those  terms,  he  hesitated.  Apparently,  he  had 
something  more  to  say — something,  perhaps,  on  the  subject  of  that 
passing  uneasiness  of  mind  which  had  been  produced  by  his  inter- 
view with  Mr.  Clare,  and  which  Magdalen's  questions  had  obliged 


NO    NAME.  87 

him  to  acknowledge.  A  look  at  his  wife  decided  his  doubts  in  the 
negative.  He  only  asked  if  she  felt  comfortable ;  and  then  turned 
away  to  leave  the  room. 

"  Must  you  go  ?"  she  asked. 

"I  have  a  letter  to  write,  my  dear." 

"  Any  thing  about  Frank  ?" 

"  No :  to-morrow  will  do  for  that.  A  letter  to  Mr.  Pendril.  I 
want  him  here  immediately." 

"  Business,  I  suppose  ?" 

"  Yes,  my  dear — business." 

He  went  out,  and  shut  himself  into  the  little  front  room,  close  to 
the  hall  door,  which  was  called  his  study.  By  nature  and  habit  the 
most  procrastinating  of  letter-writers,  he  now  inconsistently  opened 
his  desk  and  took  up  the  pen  without  a  moment's  delay.  His  let- 
ter was  long  enough  to  occupy  three  pages  of  note-paper ;  it  was 
written  with  a  readiness  of  expression  and  a  rapidity  of  hand  which 
seldom  characterized  his  proceedings  when  engaged  over  his  ordi- 
nary correspondence.  He  wrote  the  address  as  follows :  "  Immedi- 
ate— William  Pendril,  Esq.,  Serle  Street,  Lincoln's  Inn,  London" — 
then  pushed  the  letter  away  from  him,  and  sat  at  the  table,  drawing 
lines  on  the  blotting-paper  with  his  pen,  lost  in  thought.  "  No,"  he 
said  to  himself;  "I  can  do  nothing  more  till  Pendril  comes."  He 
rose;  his  face  brightened  as  he  put  the  stamp  on  the  envelope. 
The  writing  of  the  letter  had  sensibly  relieved  him,  and  his  whole 
bearing  showed  it  as  he  left  the  room. 

On  the  door-step  he  found  Norah  and  Miss  Garth,  setting  forth 
together  for  a  walk. 

"  Which  way  are  you  going  ?"  he  asked.  "  Anywhere  near  the 
post-office  ?  I  wish  you  would  post  this  letter  for  me,  Norah.  It 
is  very  important — so  important,  that  I  hardly  like  to  trust  it  to 
Thomas,  as  usual." 

Norah  at  once  took  charge  of  the  letter. 

"If  you  look,  my  dear,"  continued  her  father,  "you  will  see  that 
I  am  writing  to  Mr.  Pendril.  I  expect  him  here  to-morrow  after- 
noon. Will  you  give  the  necessary  directions,  Miss  Garth  ?  Mr. 
Pendril  will  sleep  here  to-morrow  night,  and  stay  over  Sunday.— 
Wait  a  minute !  To-day  is  Friday.  Surely  I  had  an  engagement 
for  Saturday  afternoon  ?"  He  consulted  his  pocket-book,  and  read 
over  one  of  the  entries,  with  a  look  of  annoyance.  "  Grailsea  Mill, 
three  o'clock,  Saturday.  Just  the  time  when  Pendril  will  be  here ; 
and  I  must  be  at  home  to  see  him.  How  can  I  manage  it  ?  Mon- 
day will  be  too  late  for  my  business  at  Grailsea.  I'll  go  to-day,  in- 
stead ;  and  take  my  chance  of  catching  the  miller  at  his  dinner- 
time." He  looked  at  his  watch.  "  No  time  for  driving ;  I  must  do 
it  by  railway.     If  I  go  at  once,  I  shall  catch  the  down  train  at  our 


88  NO    NAME. 

station,  and  get  on  to  Grailsea.  Take  care  of  the  letter,  Norah.  I 
won't  keep  dinner  waiting ;  if  the  return  train  doesn't  suit,  I'll  bor- 
row a  gig,  and  get  back  in  that  way." 

As  he  took  up  his  hat,  Magdalen  appeared  at  the  door,  returning 
from  her  interview  with  Frank.  The  hurry  of  her  father's  move- 
ments attracted  her  attention;  and  she  asked  him  where  he  was 
going. 

"  To  Grailsea,"  replied  Mr.  Vanstone.  "  Your  business,  Miss  Mag- 
dalen, has  got  in  the  way  of  mine — and  mine  must  give  way  to  it." 

He  spoke  those  parting  words  in  his  old  hearty  manner ;  and  left 
them,  with  the  old  characteristic  nourish  of  his  trusty  stick. 

"  My  business !"  said  Magdalen.  "  I  thought  my  business  was 
done." 

Miss  Garth  pointed  significantly  to  the  letter  in  Norah's  hand. 
"Your  business,  beyond  all  doubt,"  she  said.  "Mr.  Pendril  is  com- 
ing to-morrow ;  and  Mr.  Vanstone  seems  remarkably  anxious  about 
it.  Law,  and  its  attendant  troubles  already !  Governesses  who 
look  in  at  summer-house  doors  are  not  the  only  obstacles  to  the 
course  of  true-love.  Parchment  is  sometimes  an  obstacle.  I  hope 
you  may  find  Parchment  as  pliable  as  I  am  —  I  wish  you  well 
through  it.     Now,  Norah  !" 

Miss  Garth's  second  shaft  struck  as  harmless  as  the  first.  Mag- 
dalen had  returned  to  the  house,  a  little  vexed ;  her  interview  with 
Frank  having  been  interrupted  by  a  messenger  from  Mr.  Clare,  sent 
to  summon  the  son  into  the  father's  presence.  Although  it  had 
been  agreed  at  the  private  interview  between  Mr.  Vanstone  and  Mr. 
Clare  that  the  questions  discussed  that  morning  should  not  be  com- 
municated to  the  children  until  the  year  of  probation  was  at  an 
end — and  although,  under  these  circumstances  Mr.  Clare  had  noth- 
ing to  tell  Frank  which  Magdalen  could  not  communicate  to  him 
much  more  agreeably — the  philosopher  was  not  the  less  resolved  on 
personally  informing  his  son  of  the  parental  concession  which  res- 
cued him  from  Chinese  exile.  The  result  was  a  sudden  summons 
to  the  cottage,  which  startled  Magdalen,  but  which  did  not  appear 
to  take  Frank  by  surprise.  His  filial  experience  penetrated  the 
mystery  of  Mr.  Clare's  motives  easily  enough.  "When  my  father's 
in  spirits,"  he  said,  sulkily,  "  he  likes  to  bully  me  about  my  good 
luck.     This  message  means  that  he's  going  to  bully  me  now." 

"  Don't  go,"  suggested  Magdalen. 

"  I  must,"  rejoined  Frank.  "  I  shall  never  hear  the  last  of  it  if  I 
don't.  He's  primed  and  loaded,  and  he  means  to  go  off.  He  went 
off,  once,  when  the  engineer  took  me ;  he  went  off,  twice,  when  the 
office  in  the  City  took  me ;  and  he's  going  off,  thrice,  now  you've 
taken  me.  If  it  wasn't  for  ycu,  I  should  wish  I  had  never  been 
born.     Yes;  your  father's  been  kind  to  me,  I  know — and  I  should 


NO   NAME.  89 

have  gone  to  China,  if  it  hadn't  been  for  him.  I'm  sure  I'm  very 
much  obliged.  Of  course,  we  have  no  right  to  expect  any  thing 
else — still  it's  discouraging  to  keep  us  waiting  a  year,  isn't  it  ?" 

Magdalen  stopped  his  mouth  by  a  summary  process,  to  which 
even  Frank  submitted  gratefully.  At  the  same  time,  she  did  not 
forget  to  set  down  his  discontent  to  the  right  side.  "  How  fond  he 
is  of  me !"  she  thought.  "  A  year's  waiting  is  quite  a  hardship  to 
him."  She  returned  to  the  house,  secretly  regretting  that  she  had 
not  heard  more  of  Frank's  complimentary  complaints.  Miss  Garth's 
elaborate  satire,  addressed  to  her  while  she  was  in  this  frame  of  mind, 
was  a  purely  gratuitous  waste  of  Miss  Garth's  breath.  What  did 
Magdalen  care  for  satire  ?  What  do  Youth  and  Love  ever  care  for 
except  themselves  ?  She  never  even  said  as  much  as  "  Pooh  !"  this 
time.  She  laid  aside  her  hat  in  serene  silence,  and  sauntered  lan- 
guidly into  the  morning-room  to  keep  her  mother  company.  She 
lunched  on  dire  forebodings  of  a  quarrel  between  Frank  and  his 
father,  with  accidental  interruptions  in  the  shape  of  cold  chicken 
and  cheese-cakes.  She  trifled  away  half  an  hour  at  the  piano ;  and 
played,  in  that  time,  selections  from  the  Songs  of  Mendelssohn,  the 
Mazurkas  of  Chopin,  the  Operas  of  Verdi,  and  the  Sonatas  of  Mo- 
zart— all  of  whom  had  combined  together  on  this  occasion,  and  pro- 
duced one  immortal  work,  entitled  "  Frank."  She  closed  the  piano 
and  went  up  to  her  room,  to  dream  away  the  hours  luxuriously  in 
visions  of  her  married  future.  The  green  shutters  were  closed,  the 
easy-chair  was  pushed  in  front  of  the  glass,  the  maid  was  summoned 
as  usual ;  and  the  comb  assisted  the  mistress's  reflections,  through 
the  medium  of  the  mistress's  hair,  till  heat  and  idleness  asserted 
their  narcotic  influences  together,  and  Magdalen  fell  asleep. 

It  was  past  three  o'clock  when  she  woke.  On  going  down  stairs 
again  she  found  her  mother,  Norah,  and  Miss  Garth  all  sitting  to- 
gether enjoying  the  shade  and  the  coolness  under  the  open  portico 
in  front  of  the  house. 

Norah  had  the  railway  time-table  in  her  hand.  They  had  been 
discussing  the  chances  of  Mr.  Vanstone's  catching  the  return  train, 
and  getting  back  in  good  time.  That  topic  had  led  them,  next,  to 
his  business  errand  at  Grailsea  —  an  errand  of  kindness,  as  usual; 
undertaken  for  the  benefit  of  the  miller,  who  had  been  his  old  farm- 
servant,  and  who  was  now  hard  pressed  by  serious  pecuniary  diffi- 
culties. From  this  they  had  glided  insensibly  into  a  subject  often 
repeated  among  them,  and  never  exhausted  by  repetition — the  praise 
of  Mr.  Vanstone  himself.  Each  one  of  the  three  had  some  experi- 
ence of  her  own  to  relate  of  his  simple,  generous  nature.  The  con- 
versation seemed  to  be  almost  painfully  interesting  to  his  wife.  She 
was  too  near  the  time  of  her  trial  now  not  to  feel  nervously  sensitive 


90  NO   NAME. 

to  the  one  subject  which  always  held  the  foremost  place  in  her 
heart.  Her  eyes  overflowed  as  Magdalen  joined  the  little  group 
under  the  portico;  her  trail  hand  trembled  as  it  signed  to  her 
youngest  daughter  to  take  the  vacant  chair  by  her  side.  "  We  were 
talking  of  your  father,"  she  said,  softly.  "  Oh,  my  love,  if  your  mar- 
ried life  is  only  as  happy — "  Her  voice  failed  her;  she  put  her 
handkerchief  hurriedly  over  her  face,  and  rested  her  head  on  Mag- 
dalen's shoulder.  Norah  looked  appealingly  to  Miss  Garth,  who 
at  once  led  the  conversation  back  to  the  more  trivial  subject  of  Mr. 
Vanstone's  return.  "  We  have  all  been  wondering,"  she  said,  with 
a  significant  look  at  Magdalen,  "  whether  your  father  will  leave 
Grailsea  in  time  to  catch  the  train — or  whether  he  will  miss  it,  and 
be  obliged  to  drive  back.     What  do  you  say  ?" 

"I  say,  papa  will  miss  the  train,"  replied  Magdalen,  taking  Miss 
Garth's  hint  with  her  customary  quickness.  "  The  last  thing  he 
attends  to  at  Grailsea  will  be  the  business  that  brings  him  there. 
Whenever  he  has  business  to  do,  he  always  puts  it  off  to  the  last 
moment,  doesn't  he,  mamma?" 

The  question  roused  her  mother  exactly  as  Magdalen  had  intend- 
ed it  should.  "  Not  when  his  errand  is  an  errand  of  kindness."  said 
Mrs.  Vanstone.  "  He  has  gone  to  help  the  miller  in  a  very  pressing 
difficulty— " 

"And  don't  you  know  what  he'll  do?"  persisted  Magdalen. 
"  He'll  romp  with  the  miller's  children,  and  gossip  with  the  mother, 
and  hob-and-nob  with  the  father.  At  the  last  moment,  when  he 
has  got  five  minutes  left  to  catch  the  train,  he'll  say, '  Let's  go  into 
the  counting-house  and  look  at  the  books.'  He'll  find  the  books 
dreadfully  complicated ;  he'll  suggest  sending  for  an  accountant ; 
he'll  settle  the  business  off-hand,  by  lending  the  money  in  the  mean 
time  ;  he'll  jog  back  comfortably  in  the  miller's  gig ;  and  he'll  tell 
us  all  how  pleasant  the  lanes  were  in  the  cool  of  the  evening." 

The  little  character-sketch  which  these  words  drew  was  too  faith- 
ful a  likeness  not  to  be  recognized.  Mrs.  Vanstone  showed  her  ap- 
preciation of  it  by  a  smile.  "  When  your  father  returns,"  she  said, 
"  we  will  put  your  account  of  his  proceedings  to  the  test.  I  think," 
she  continued,  rising  languidly  from  her  chair,  "  I  had  better  go  in- 
doors again  now,  and  rest  on  the  sofa  till  he  comes  back." 

The  little  group  under  the  portico  broke  up.  Magdalen  slipped 
away  into  the  garden  to  hear  Frank's  account  of  the  interview  with 
his  father.  The  other  three  ladies  entered  the  house  together. 
When  Mrs.  Vanstone  was  comfortably  established  on  the  sofa, 
Norah  and  Miss  Garth  left  her  tc  repose,  and  withdrew  to  the  li- 
brary to  look  over  the  last  parcel  of  books  from  London. 

It  was  a  quiet,  cloudless  summer's  day.  The  heat  was  tempered 
by  a  light  western  breeze ;  the  voices  of  laborers  at  work  in  a  field 


NO    NAME.  91 

near  reached  the  house  cheerfully;  the  clock- bell  of  the  village 
church  as  it  struck  the  quarters,  floated  dowu  the  wind  with  a 
clearer  ring,  a  louder  melody  than  usual.  Sweet  odors  from  field 
and  flower-garden,  stealing  in  at  the  ojDen  windows,  filled  the  house 
with  their  fragrance ;  and  the  birds  in  Norah's  aviary  up  stairs  sang 
the  song  of  their  happiness  exultingly  in  the  sun. 

As  the  church  clock  struck  the  quarter  past  four,  the  morning- 
room  door  opened ;  and  Mrs.  Vanstone  crossed  the  hall  alone.  She 
had  tried  vainly  to  compose  herself.  She  was  too  restless  to  lie 
still  and  sleep.  For  a  moment  she  directed  her  steps  toward  the 
portico — then  turned,  and  looked  about  her,  doubtful  where  to  go, 
or  what  to  do  next.  While  she  was  still  hesitating,  the  half-open 
door  of  her  husband's  study  attracted  her  attention.  The  room 
seemed  to  be  in  sad  confusion.  Drawers  were  left  open ;  coats  and 
hats,  account-books  and  papers,  pipes  and  fishing-rods  were  all  scat- 
tered about  together.  She  went  in,  and  pushed  the  door  to — but  so 
gently  that  she  still  left  it  ajar.  "  It  will  amuse  me  to  put  his  room 
to  rights,"  she  thought  to  herself.  "I  should  like  to  do  something 
for  him  before  I  am  down  on  my  bed,  helpless."  She  began  to  ar- 
range his  drawers,  and  found  his  banker's  book  lying  open  in  one 
of  them.  "  My  poor  clear,  how  careless  he  is  !  The  servants  might 
have  seen  all  his  affairs,  if  I  had  not  happened  to  have  looked  in." 
She  set  the  drawers  right ;  and  then  turned  to  the  multifarious  lit- 
ter on  a  side-table.  A  little  old-fashioned  music-book  appeared 
among  the  scattered  papers,  with  her  name  written  in  it,  in  faded 
ink.  She  blushed  like  a  young  girl  in  the  first  happiness  of  the 
discovery.  "  How  good  he  is  to  me  !  He  remembers  my  poor  old 
music-book,  and  keeps  it  for  my  sake."  As  she  sat  down  by  the  ta- 
ble and  opened  the  book,  the  by-gone  time  came  back  to  her  in  all  its 
tenderness.  The  clock  struck  the  half-hour,  struck  the  three-quar- 
ters— and  still  she  sat  there,  with  the  music-book  on  her  lap,  dream- 
ing happily  over  the  old  songs ;  thinking  gratefully  of  the  golden 
days  when  his  hand  had  turned  the  pages  for  her,  when  his  voice 
had  whispered  the  words  which  no  woman's  memory  ever  forgets. 

Norah  roused  herself  from  the  volume  she  was  reading,  and 
glanced  at  the  clock  on  the  library  mantel-piece. 

"If  papa  comes  back  by  the  railway,"  she  said,  "he  will  be  here 
in  ten  minutes." 

Miss  Garth  started,  and  looked  up  drowsily  from  the  book  which 
was  just  dropping  out  of  her  hand. 

"I  don't  think  he  will  come  by  train,"  she  replied.  "  He  will  jog 
back — as  Magdalen  flippantly  expressed  it — in  the  miller's  gig." 

As  she  said  the  words,  there  was  a  knock  at  the  library  door. 
The  footman  appeared,  and  addressed  himself  to  Miss  Garth. 


92  NO    NAME. 

"A  person  wishes  to  see  you,  rna'am." 

"  Who  is  it  ?" 

"  I  don't  know,  ma'am.  A  stranger  to  me — a  respectable-looking 
man — and  he  said  he  particularly  wished  to  see  you." 

Miss  Garth  went  out  into  the  hall.  The  footman  closed  the  libra- 
ry door  after  her,  and  withdrew  down  the  kitchen  stairs. 

The  man  stood  just  inside  the  door,  on  the  mat.  His  eyes  wan- 
dered, his  face  was  pale — he  looked  ill ;  he  looked  frightened.  He 
trifled  nervously  with  his  cap,  and  shifted  it  backward  and  forward, 
from  one  hand  to  the  other. 

"  You  wanted  to  see  me  ?"  said  Miss  Garth. 

"  I  beg  your  pardon,  ma'am.  —  You  are  not  Mrs.  Vanstone,  are 
you  ?" 

"  Certainly  not.  I  am  Miss  Garth.  Why  do  you  ask  the  ques- 
tion?" 

"  I  am  employed  in  the  clerk's  office  at  Grailsea  Station — " 

"  Yes  ?" 

"I  am  sent  here — " 

He  stopped  again.  His  wandering  eyes  looked  down  at  the  mat, 
and  his  restless  hands  wrung  his  cap  harder  and  harder.  He  mois- 
tened his  dry  lips,  and  tried  once  more. 

"  I  am  sent  here  on  a  very  serious  errand." 

"  Serious  to  me  ?" 

"  Serious  to  all  in  this  house." 

Miss  Garth  took  one  step  nearer  to  him — took  one  steady  look  at 
his  face.  She  turned  cold  in  the  summer  heat.  "  Stop !"  she  said, 
with  a  sudden  distrust,  and  glanced  aside  anxiously  at  the  door  of 
the  morning-room.  It  was  safely  closed.  "  Tell  me  the  worst ;  and 
don't  speak  loud.     There  has  been  an  accident.     Where  ?" 

"  On  the  railway.     Close  to  Grailsea  Station." 

"  The  up-train  to  London  ?" 

"  No  :  the  down-train  at  one-fifty — " 

"  God  Almighty  help  us  !  The  train  Mr.  Vanstone  traveled  by  to 
Grailsea  ?" 

"  The  same.  I  was  sent  here  by  the  up-train :  the  line  was  just 
cleared  in  time  for  it.  They  wouldn't  write — they  said  I  must  see 
'Miss  Garth,'  and  tell  her.  There  are  seven  passengers  badly  hurt; 
and  two — " 

The  next  word  failed  on  his  lips ;  he  raised  his  hand  in  the  dead 
silence.  With  eyes  that  opened  wide  in  horror,  he  raised  his  hand 
and  pointed  over  Miss  Garth's  shoulder. 

She  turned  a  little,  and  looked  back. 

Face  to  face  with  her,  on  the  threshold  of  the  study  door,  stood 
the  mistress  of  the  house.  She  held  her  old  music-book  clutched 
fast  mechanically  in  both  hands.     She  stood,  the  spectre  of  herself. 


NO    NAME.  93 

With  a  dreadful  vacancy  in  her  eyes,  with  a  dreadful  stillness  in  her 
voice,  she  repeated  the  man's  last  words : 

"  Seven  passengers  badly  hurt ;  and  two — " 

Her  tortured  fingers  relaxed  their  hold ;  the  book  dropped  from 
them ;  she  sank  forward  heavily.  Miss  Garth  caught  her  before  she 
fell — caught  her,  and  turned  upon  the  man,  with  the  wife's  swoon- 
ing body  in  her  arms,  to  hear  the  husband's  fate. 

"  The  harm  is  done,"  she  said ;  "  you  may  speak  out.  Is  he 
wounded,  or  dead  ?" 

"  Dead." 


CHAPTER  XI. 

The  sun  sank  lower;  the  western  breeze  floated  cool  and  fresh 
into  the  house.  As  the  evening  advanced,  the  cheerful  ring  of  the 
village  clock  came  nearer  and  nearer.  Field  and  flower-garden  felt 
the  influence  of  the  hour,  and  shed  their  sweetest  fragrance.  The 
birds  in  Norah's  aviary  sunned  themselves  in  the  evening  stillness, 
and  sang  their  farewell  gratitude  to  the  dying  day. 

Staggered  in  its  progress  for  a  time  only,  the  pitiless  routine  of 
the  house  went  horribly  on  its  daily  way.  The  panic-stricken  serv- 
ants took  their  blind  refuge  in  the  duties  proper  to  the  hour.  The 
footman  softly  laid  the  table  for  dinner.  The  maid  sat  waiting  in 
senseless  doubt,  with  the  hot- water  jugs  for  the  bedrooms  ranged 
near  her  in  their  customary  row.  The  gardener,  who  had  been  or- 
dered to  come  to  his  master,  with  vouchers  for  money  that  he  had 
paid  in  excess  of  his  instructions,  said  his  character  was  dear  to 
him,  and  left  the  vouchers  at  his  appointed  time.  Custom  that 
never  yields,  and  Death  that  never  spares,  met  on  the  wreck  of  hu- 
man happiness — and  Death  gave  way. 

Heavily  the  thunder-clouds  of  Affliction  had  gathered  over  the 
house — heavily,  but  not  at  their  darkest  yet.  At  five,  that  evening, 
the  shock  of  the  calamity  had  struck  its  blow.  Before  another  hour 
had  passed,  the  disclosure  of  the  husband's  sudden  death  was  fol- 
lowed by  the  suspense  of  the  wife's  mortal  peril.  She  lay  helpless 
on  her  widowed  bed ;  her  own  life,  and  the  life  of  her  unborn  child, 
trembling  in  the  balance. 

But  one  mind  still  held  possession  of  its  resources — but  one  guid- 
ing spirit  now  moved  helpfully  in  the  house  of  mourning. 

If  Miss  Garth's  early  days  had  been  passed  as  calmly  and  as  hap- 
pily as  her  later  life  at  Combe-Raven,  she  might  have  sunk  under 
the  cruel  necessities  of  the  time.  But  the  governess's  youth  had 
been  tried  in  the  ordeal  of  family  affliction ;  and  she  met  her  terri- 
ble duties  with  the  steady  courage  of  a  woman  who  had  learned  to 


94  NO    NAME. 

suffer.  Alone,  she  had  faced  the  trial  of  telling  the  daughters  that 
they  were  fatherless.  Alone,  she  now  struggled  to  sustain  thern, 
when  the  dreadful  certainty  of  their  bereavement  was  at  last  im- 
pressed on  their  minds. 

Her  least  anxiety  was  for  the  elder  sister.  The  agony  of  Norah's 
grief  had  forced  its  way  outward  to  the  natural  relief  of  tears.  It 
was  not  so  with  Magdalen.  Tearless  and  speechless,  she  sat  in  the 
room  where  the  revelation  of  her  father's  death  had  first  reached 
her ;  her  face,  unnaturally  petrified  by  the  sterile  sorrow  of  old  age 
— a  white,  changeless  blank,  fearful  to  look  at.  Nothing  roused, 
nothing  melted  her.  She  only  said,  "Don't  speak  to  me;  don't 
touch  me.  Let  me  bear  it  by  myself  " — and  fell  silent  again.  The 
first  great  grief  which  had  darkened  the  sisters'  lives  had,  as  it 
seemed,  changed  their  every-day  characters  already. 

The  twilight  fell,  and  faded ;  and  the  summer  night  came  bright- 
ly. As  the  first  carefully  shaded  light  was  kindled  in  the  sick- 
room, the  physician,  who  had  been  summoned  from  Bristol,  arrived 
to  consult  with  the  medical  attendant  of  the  family.  He  could  give 
no  comfort :  he  could  only  say,  "  We  must  try,  and  hope.  The 
shock  which  struck  her,  when  she  overheard  the  news  of  her  hus- 
band's death,  has  prostrated  her  strength  at  the  time  when  she 
needed  it  most.  No  effort  to  preserve  her  shall  be  neglected.  I 
will  stay  here  for  the  night." 

He  opened  one  of  the  windows  to  admit  more  air  as  he  spoke. 
The  view  overlooked  the  drive  in  front  of  the  house,  and  the  road 
outside.  Little  groups  of  people  were  standing  before  the  lodge- 
gates,  looking  in.  "  If  those  persons  make  any  noise,"  said  the  doc- 
tor, "they  must  be  warned  away."  There  was  no  need  to  warn 
them :  they  were  only  the  laborers  who  had  worked  on  the  dead 
man's  property,  and  here  and  there  some  women  and  children  from 
the  village.  They  were  all  thinking  of  him — some  talking  of  him 
— and  it  quickened  their  sluggish  minds  to  look  at  his  house.  The 
gentlefolks  thereabouts  were  mostly  kind  to  them  (the  men  said), 
but  none  like  Mm.  The  women  whispered  to  each  other  of  his 
comforting  ways,  when  he  came  into  their  cottages.  "  He  was  a 
cheerful  man,  poor  soul ;  and  thoughtful  of  us,  too :  he  never  came 
in  and  stared  at  meal-times ;  the  rest  of  'em  help  us,  and  scold  us — 
all  he  ever  said  was,  better  luck  next  time."  So  they  stood,  and 
talked  of  him,  and  looked  at  his  house  and  grounds,  and  moved  off 
clumsily  by  twos  and  threes,  with  the  dim  sense  that  the  sight  of 
his  pleasant  face  would  never  comfort  them  again.  The  dullest 
luad  among  them  knew,  that  night,  that  the  hard  ways  of  poverty 
would  be  all  the  harder  to  walk  on,  now  he  was  gone. 

A  little  later,  news  was  brought  to  the  bed-chamber  door  that  old 
Mr.  Clare  had  come  alone  to  the  house,  and  was  waiting  in  the  hall 


NO    NAME.  95 

below,  to  hear  what  the  physician  said.  Miss  Garth  was  not  able 
to  go  down  to  him  herself:  she  sent  a  message.  He  said  to  the 
servant,  "  I'll  come  and  ask  again,  in  two  hours1  time  " — and  went 
out  slowly.  Unlike  other  men  in  all  things  else,  the  sudden  death 
of  his  old  friend  had  produced  no  discernible  change  in  him.  The 
feeling  implied  in  the  errand  of  inquiry  that  had  brought  him  to 
the  house  was  the  one  betrayal  of  human  sympathy  which  escaped 
the  rugged,  impenetrable  old  man. 

He  came  again,  when  the  two  hours  had  expired ;  and  this  time 
Miss  Garth  saw  him. 

They  shook  hands  in  silence.  She  waited ;  she  nerved  herself 
to  hear  him  speak  of  his  lost  friend.  No  :  he  never  mentioned  the 
dreadful  accident,  he  never  alluded  to  the  dreadful  death.  He  said 
these  words,  "  Is  she  better,  or  worse  ?"  and  said  no  more.  Was 
the  tribute  of  his  grief  for  the  husband  sternly  suppressed  under 
the  expression  of  his  anxiety  for  the  wife  ?  The  nature  of  the  man, 
unpliably  antagonistic  to  the  world  and  the  world's  customs,  might 
justify  some  such  interpretation  of  his  conduct  as  this.  He  repeat- 
ed his  question,  "Is  she  better,  or  worse?" 

Miss  Garth  answered  him  : 

"No  better  ;  if  there  is  any  change,  it  is  a  change  for  the  worse." 

They  spoke  those  words  at  the  window  of  the  morning-room 
which  opened  on  the  garden.  Mr.  Clare  paused,  after  hearing  the 
reply  to  his  inquiry,  stepped  out  on  to  the  walk,  then  turned  on  a 
sudden,  and  spoke  again : 

"  Has  the  doctor  given  her  up  ?"  he  asked. 

"  He  has  not  concealed  from  us  that  she  is  in  danger.  We  can 
only  pray  for  her." 

The  old  man  laid  his  hand  on  Miss  Garth's  arm  as  she  answered 
him,  and  looked  her  attentively  in  the  face. 

"  You  believe  in  prayer  ?"  he  said. 

Miss  Garth  drew  sorrowfully  back  from  him. 

"  You  might  have  spared  me  that  question,  sir,  at  such  a  time  as 
this." 

He  took  no  notice  of  her  answer ;  his  eyes  were  still  fastened  on 
her  face. 

"  Pray  !"  he  said.  "  Pray  as  you  never  prayed  before,  for  the  pres- 
ervation of  Mrs.  Vanstone's  life." 

He  left  her.  His  voice  and  manner  implied  some  unutterable 
dread  of  the  future,  which  his  words  had  not  confessed.  Miss  Garth 
followed  him  into  the  garden,  and  called  to  him.  He  heard  her,  but 
he  never  turned  back  :  he  quickened  his  pace,  as  if  he  desired  to 
avoid  her.  She  watched  him  across  the  lawn  in  the  warm  summer 
moonlight.  She  saw  his  white,  withered  hands,  saw  them  suddenly 
against  the  black  background  of  the  shrubbery,  raised  and  wrung 


96  NO    NAME. 

above  his  bead.  They  dropped — tbe  trees  shrouded  him  in  dark' 
ness — he  was  gone. 

Miss  Garth  went  back  to  the  suffering  woman,  with  the  burden 
on  her  mind  of  one  anxiety  more. 

It  was  then  past  eleven  o'clock.  Some  little  time  had  elapsed 
since  she  had  seen  the  sisters  and  spoken  to  them.  The  inquiries 
she  addressed  to  one  of  the  female  servants  only  elicited  the  infor- 
mation that  they  were  both  in  their  rooms.  She  delayed  her  return 
to  the  mother's  bedside  to  say  her  parting  words  of  comfort  to  the 
daughters,  before  she  left  them  for  the  night.  Norah's  room  was 
the  nearest.  She  softly  opened  the  door  and  looked  in.  The  kneel- 
ing figure  by  the  bedside  told  her  that  God's  help  had  found  the 
fatherless  daughter  in  her  affliction.  Grateful  tears  gathered  in  her 
eyes  as  she  looked  :  she  softly  closed  the  door,  and  went  on  to  Mag- 
dalen's room.  There  doubt  stayed  her  feet  at  the  threshold,  and 
she  waited  for  a  moment  before  going  in. 

A  sound  in  the  room  caught  her  ear — the  monotonous  rustling  of 
a  woman's  dress,  now  distant,  now  near ;  passing  without  cessation 
from  end  to  end  over  the  floor — a  sound  which  told  her  that  Mag- 
dalen was  pacing  to  and  fro  in  the  secrecy  of  her  own  chamber. 
Miss  Garth  knocked.  The  rustling  ceased;  the  door  was  opened, 
and  the  sad  young  face  confronted  her,  locked  in  its  cold  despair ; 
the  large  light  eyes  looked  mechanically  into  hers,  as  vacant  and  as 
tearless  as  ever. 

That  look  wrung  the  heart  of  the  faithful  woman,  who  had  trained 
her  and  loved  her  from  a  child.  She  took  Magdalen  tenderly  in 
her  arms. 

"  Oh,  my  love,"  she  said,  "  no  tears  yet !  Oh,  if  I  could  see  you  as 
I  have  seen  Norah !  Speak  to  me,  Magdalen — try  if  you  can  speak 
to  me." 

She  tried,  and  spoke  : 

"  Norah,"  she  said,  "  feels  no  remorse.  He  was  not  serving  Norah's 
interests  when  he  went  to  his  death  :  he  was  serving  urine." 

With  that  terrible  answer,  she  put  her  cold  lips  to  Miss  Garth's 
cheek. 

"  Let  me  bear  it  by  myself,"  she  said,  and  gently  closed  the  door. 

Again  Miss  Garth  waited  at  the  threshold,  and  again  the  sound 
of  the  rustling  dress  passed  to  and  fro — now  far,  now  near — to  and 
fro  with  a  cruel,  mechanical  regularity,  that  chilled  the  warmest 
sympathy,  and  daunted  the  boldest  hope. 

The  night  passed.  It  had  been  agreed,  if  no  change  for  the  bet- 
ter showed  itself  by  the  morning,  that  the  London  physician  whom 
Mrs.  Vanstone  had  consulted  some  months  since  should  be  sum- 
moned to  the  house  on  the  next  day.  No  change  for  the  better  ap- 
peared, and  the  physician  was  sent  for. 


NO  NAME.  9\ 

As  the  morning  advanced,  Frank  came  to  make  inquiries,  from 
the  cottage.  Had  Mr.  Clare  intrusted  to  his  son  the  duty  which  he 
had  personally  performed  on  the  previous  day,  through  reluctance 
to  meet  Miss  Garth  again  after  what  he  had  said  to  her  ?  It  might 
be  so.  Frank  could  throw  no  light  on  the  subject ;  he  was  not  in 
his  father's  confidence.  He  looked  pale  and  bewildered.  His  first 
inquiries  after  Magdalen  showed  how  his  weak  nature  had  been 
shaken  by  the  catastrophe.  He  was  not  capable  of  framing  his  own 
questions :  the  words  faltered  on  his  lips,  and  the  ready  tears  came 
into  his  eyes.  Miss  Garth's  heart  warmed  to  him  for  the  first  time. 
Grief  has  this  that  is  noble  in  it  —  it  accepts  all  sympathy,  come 
whence  it  may.  She  encouraged  the  lad  by  a  few  kind  words,  and 
took  his  hand  at  parting. 

Before  noon,  Frank  returned  with  a  second  message.  His  father 
desired  to  know  whether  Mr.  Pendril  was  not  expected  at  Combe- 
Raven  on  that  day.  If  the  lawyer's  arrival  was  looked  for,  Frank 
was  directed  to  be  in  attendance  at  the  station,  and  to  take  him 
to  the  cottage,  where  a  bed  would  be  placed  at  his  disposal.  This 
message  took  Miss  Garth  by  surprise.  It  showed  that  Mr.  Clare 
had  been  made  acquainted  with  his  dead  friend's  purpose  of  send- 
ing for  Mr.  Pendril.  Was  the  old  man's  thoughtful  offer  of  hospi- 
tality another  indirect  expression  of  the  natural  human  distress 
which  he  perversely  concealed  ?  or  was  he  aware  of  some  secret 
necessity  for  Mr.  Pendril's  presence,  of  which  the  bereaved  family 
had  been  kept  in  total  ignorance  ?  Miss  Garth  was  too  heart-sick 
and  hopeless  to  dwell  on  either  question.  She  told  Frank  that  Mr. 
Pendril  had  been  expected  at  three  o'clock,  and  sent  him  back  with 
her  thanks. 

Shortly  after  his  departure,  such  anxieties  on  Magdalen's  account 
as  her  mind  was  now  able  to  feel  were  relieved  by  better  news  than 
her  last  night's  experience  had  inclined  her  to  hope  for.  Norah's 
influence  had  been  exerted  to  rouse  her  sister ;  and  Norah's  patient 
sympathy  had  set  the  prisoned  grief  free.  Magdalen  had  suffered 
severely  —  suffered  inevitably,  with  such  a  nature  as  hers  —  in  the 
effort  that  relieved  her.  The  healing  tears  had  not  come  gently ; 
they  had  burst  from  her  with  a  torturing,  passionate  vehemence — 
but  Norah  had  never  left  her  till  the  struggle  was  over,  and  the 
calm  had  come.  These  better  tidings  encouraged  Miss  Garth  to 
withdraw  to  her  own  room,  and  to  take  the  rest  which  she  needed 
sorely.  Worn  out  in  body  and  mind,  she  slept  from  sheer  exhaus- 
tion— slept  heavily  and  dreamless  for  some  hours.  It  was  between 
three  and  four  in  the  afternoon,  when  she  was  roused  by  one  of  the 
female  servants.  The  woman  had  a  note  in  her  hand — a  note  left  by 
Mr.  Clare  the  younger,  with  a  message  desiring  that  it  might  be  de- 
livered to  Miss  Garth  immediately.     The  name  written  in  the  lower 


98  NO    NAME. 

corner  of  the  envelope  was  "  William  Pendril."  The  lawyer  had 
arrived. 

Miss  Garth  opened  the  note.  After  a  few  first  sentences  of  sym- 
pathy and  condolence,  the  writer  announced  his  arrival  at  Mr. 
Clare's ;  and  then  proceeded,  apparently  in  his  professional  capacity, 
to  make  a  very  startling  request. 

"  If,"  he  wrote,  "  any  change  for  the  better  in  Mrs.  Vanstone 
should  take  place — whether  it  is  only  an  improvement  for  the  time, 
or  whether  it  is  the  permanent  improvement  for  which  wc?  all  hope 
— in  either  case  I  entreat  you  to  let  me  know  of  it  immediately. 
It  is  of  the  last  importance  that  I  should  see  her,  in  the  evett  of 
her  gaining  strength  enough  to  give  me  her  attention  for  five 
minutes,  and  of  her  being  able  at  the  expiration  of  that  time  to  sign 
her  name.  May  I  beg  that  you  will  communicate  my  request,  in 
the  strictest  confidence,  to  the  medical  men  in  attendance  ?  They 
will  understand,  and  you  will  understand,  the  vital  importance  I  at- 
tach to  this  interview,  when  I  tell  you  that  I  have  arranged  to  de- 
fer to  it  all  other  business  claims  on  me ;  and  that  I  hold  myself  in 
readiness  to  obey  your  summons,  at  any  hour  of  the  day  or  night." 

In  those  terms  the  letter  ended.  Miss  Garth  read  it  twice  over. 
At  the  second  reading,  the  request  which  the  lawyer  now  addressed 
to  her,  and  the  farewell  words  which  had  escaped  Mr.  Clare's  lips 
the  day  before,  connected  themselves  vaguely  in  her  mind.  There 
was  some  other  serious  interest  in  suspense,  known  to  Mr.  Pendril 
and  known  to  Mr.  Clare,  besides  the  first  and  foremost  interest  of 
Mrs.  Vanstone's  recovery.  Whom  did  it  affect?  The  children? 
Were  they  threatened  by  some  new  calamity  which  their  mother's 
signature  might  avert  ?  What  did  it  mean  ?  Did  it  mean  that  Mr. 
Vanstone  had  died  without  leaving  a  will  ? 

In  her  distress  and  confusion  of  mind,  Miss  Garth  was  incapable 
of  reasoning  with  herself,  as  she  might  have  reasoned  at  a  happier 
time.  She  hastened  to  the  antechamber  of  Mrs.  Vanstone's  room ; 
and,  after  explaining  Mr.  Pendril's  position  toward  the  family, 
placed  his  letter  in  the  hands  of  the  medical  men.  They  both  an- 
swered, without  hesitation,  to  the  same  purpose.  Mrs.  Vanstone's 
condition  rendered  any  such  interview  as  the  lawyer  desired  a  total 
impossibility.  If  she  rallied  from  her  present  prostration,  Miss 
Garth  should  be  at  once  informed  of  the  improvement.  In  the 
mean  time,  the  answer  to  Mr.  Pendril  might  be  conveyed  in  one 
word — Impossible. 

"  You  see  what  importance  Mr.  Pendril  attaches  to  the  inter- 
view ?"  said  Miss  Garth. 

Yes :  both  the  doctors  saw  it. 

"  My  mind  is  lost  and  confused,  gentlemen,  in  this  dreadful  sus- 
pense.    Can  you  either  of  you  guess  why  the  signature  is  wanted  ? 


NO    NAME.  99 

or  what  the  object  of  the  interview  may  be  ?  I  have  only  seen  Mr. 
Pendril  when  he  has  come  here  on  former  visits :  I  have  no  claim 
to  justify  me  in  questioning  him.  Will  you  look  at  the  letter  again  ? 
Do  you  think  it  implies  that  Mr.  Vanstone  has  never  made  a  will  ?" 

"  I  think  it  can  hardly  imply  that,"  said  one  of  the  doctors. 
"  But,  even  supposing  Mr.  Vanstone  to  have  died  intestate,  the  law 
takes  due  care  of  the  interests  of  his  widow  and  his  children — " 

"  Would  it  do  so,"  interposed  the  other  medical  man,  "  if  the 
property  happened  to  be  in  land  ?" 

"  I  am  not  sure  in  that  case.  Do  you  happen  to  know,  Miss 
Garth,  whether  Mr.  Vanstone's  property  was  in  money  or  in  land  ?" 

"  In  money,"  replied  Miss  Garth.  "  I  have  heard  him  say  so  on 
more  than  one  occasion." 

"  Then  I  can  relieve  your  mind  by  speaking  from  my  own  experi- 
ence. The  law,  if  he  has  died  intestate,  gives  a  third  of  his  property 
to  his  widow,  and  divides  the  rest  equally  among  his  children." 

"  But  if  Mrs.  Vanstone—  ?" 

"  If  Mrs.  Vanstone  should  die,"  pursued  the  doctor,  completing 
the  question  which  Miss  Garth  had  not  the  heart  to  conclude  for 
herself,  "  I  believe  I  am  right  in  telling  you  that  the  property  would, 
as  a  matter  of  legal  course,  go  to  the  children.  Whatever  necessi- 
ty there  may  be  for  the  interview  which  Mr.  Pendril  requests,  I  can 
see  no  reason  for  connecting  it  with  the  question  of  Mr.  Vanstone's 
presumed  intestacy.  But,  by  all  means,  put  the  question,  for  the 
satisfaction  of  your  own  mind,  to  Mr.  Pendril  himself." 

Miss  Garth  withdrew  to  take  the  course  which  the  doctor  advised. 
After  communicating  to  Mr.  Pendril  the  medical  decision  which, 
thus  far,  refused  him  the  interview  that  he  sought,  she  added  a 
brief  statement  of  the  legal  question  she  had  put  to  the  doctors ; 
and  hinted  delicately  at  her  natural  anxiety  to  be  informed  of  the 
motives  which  had  led  the  lawyer  to  make  his  request.  The  answer 
she  received  was  guarded  in  the  extreme :  it  did  not  impress  her 
with  a  favorable  opinion  of  Mr.  Pendril.  He  confirmed  the  doctors' 
interpretation  Oi  the  law  in  general  terms  only ;  expressed  his  in- 
tention of  waiting  at  the  cottage,  in  the  hope  that  a  change  for  the 
better  might  yet  enable  Mrs.  Vanstone  to  see  him ;  and  closed  his 
letter  without  the  sUghtest  explanation  of  his  motives,  and  without 
a  word  of  reference  to  the  question  of  the  existence,  or  the  non-ex- 
istence, of  Mr.  Vanstone's  will. 

The  marked  caution  of  the  lawyer's  reply  dwelt  uneasily  on  Miss 
Garth's  mind,  until  the  long-expected  event  of  the  day  recalled  all 
her  thoughts  to  her  one  absorbing  anxiety  on  Mrs.  Vanstone's  ac- 
count. 

Early  in  the  evening  the  physician  from  London  arrived.  He 
watched  long  by  the  bedside  of  the  suffering  woman ;  he  remained 


100  NO    NAME. 

longer  still  in  consultation  with  his  medical  brethren;  he  went  back 
again  to  the  sick-room,  before  Miss  Garth  could  prevail  on  him  to 
communicate  to  her  the  opinion  at  which  he  had  arrived. 

When  he  came  out  into  the  antechamber  for  the  second  time,  he 
silently  took  a  chair  by  her  side.  She  looked  in  his  face ;  and  the 
last  faint  hope  died  in  her  before  he  opened  his  lips. 

"  I  must  speak  the  hard  truth,"  he  said,  gently.  "  All  that  can  be 
done  has  been  done.  The  next  four-and-twenty  hours,  at  most,  will 
end  your  suspense.  If  Nature  makes  no  effort  in  that  time — I  grieve 
to  say  it— you  must  prepare  yourself  for  the  worst." 

Those  words  said  all :  they  were  prophetic  of  the  end. 

The  night  passed ;  and  she  lived  through  it.  The  next  day  came ; 
and  she  lingered  on  till  the  clock  pointed  to  five.  At  that  hour  the 
tidings  of  her  husband's  death  had  dealt  the  mortal  blow.  When 
the  hour  came  round  again,  the  mercy  of  God  let  her  go  to  him  in 
the  better  world.  Her  daughters  were  kneeling  at  the  bedside  as 
her  spirit  passed  away.  She  left  them  unconscious  of  their  pres- 
ence ;  mercifully  and  happily  insensible  to  the  pang  of  the  last  fare- 
well. 

Her  child  survived  her  till  the  evening  was  on  the  wane,  and  the 
sunset  was  dim  in  the  quiet  western  heaven.  As  the  darkness  came, 
the  light  of  the  frail  little  life — faint  and  feeble  from  the  first — flick- 
ered and  went  out.  All  that  was  earthly  of  mother  and  child  lay, 
that  night,  on  the  same  bed.  The  Angel  of  Death  had  done  his 
awful  bidding ;  and  the  two  Sisters  were  left  alone  in  the  world. 


CHAPTER  XII. 

Earlier  than  usual,  on  the  morning  of  Thursday,  the  twenty- 
third  of  July,  Mr.  Clare  appeared  at  the  door  of  his  cottage,  and 
stepped  out  into  the  little  strip  of  garden  attached  to  his  residence. 

After  he  had  taken  a  few  turns  backward  and  forward,  alone,  he 
was  joined  by  a  spare,  quiet,  gray-haired  man,  whose  personal  ap- 
pearance was  totally  devoid  of  marked  character  of  any  kind ;  whose 
inexpressive  face  and  conventionally-quiet  manner  presented  noth- 
ing that  attracted  approval,  and  nothing  that  inspired  dislike.  This 
was  Mr.  Pendril — this  was  the  man  on  whose  lips  hung  the  future  j 
of  the  orphans  at  Combe-Raven. 

"The  time  is  getting  on,"  he  said,  looking  toward  the  shrubbery,! 
as  he  joined  Mr.  Clare.  "My  appointment  with  Miss  Garth  is  foij 
eleven  o'clock  :  it  only  wants  ten  minutes  of  the  hour." 

"  Are  you  to  see  her  alone  ?"  asked  Mr.  Clare. 

M I  left  Miss  Garth  to  decide — after  warning  her,  first  of  all,  thall 


NO    NAME.  101 

the  circumstances  I  am  compelled  to  disclose  are  of  a  very  serious 
nature." 

"And  has  she  decided  ?" 

"  She  writes  me  word  that  she  mentioned  my  appointment,  and 
repeated  the  warning  I  had  given  her  to  both  the  daughters.  The 
elder  of  the  two  shrinks  —  and  who  can  wonder  at  it?  —  from  any 
discussion  connected  with  the  future,  which  requires  her  presence 
so  soon  as  the  day  after  the  funeral.  The  younger  one  appears  to 
have  expressed  no  opinion  on  the  subject.  As  I  understand  it,  she 
suffers  herself  to  be  passively  guided  by  her  sister's  example.  My 
interview,  therefore,  will  take  place  with  Miss  Garth  alone— and  it 
is  a  very  great  relief  to  me  to  know  it." 

He  spoke  the  last  words  with  more  emphasis  and  energy  than 
seemed  habitual  to  him.  Mr.  Clare  stopped,  and  looked  at  his  guest 
attentively. 

"  You  are  almost  as  old  as  I  am,  sir,"  he  said.  "  Has  all  your  long 
experience  as  a  lawyer  not  hardened  you  yet  ?" 

"I  never  knew  how  little  it  had  hardened  me,"  replied  Mr.  Pen- 
dril,  quietly,  "  until  I  returned  from  London  yesterday  to  attend  the 
funeral.  I  was  not  warned  that  the  daughters  had  resolved  on  fol- 
lowing their  parents  to  the  grave.  I  think  their  presence  made  the 
closing  scene  of  this  dreadful  calamity  doubly  painful,  and  doubly 
touching.  You  saw  how  the  great  concourse  of  people  were  moved 
by  it — and  they  were  in  ignorance  of  the  truth ;  they  knew  nothing 
of  the  cruel  necessity  which  takes  me  to  the  house  this  morning. 
The  sense  of  that  necessity — and  the  sight  of  those  poor  girls  at  the 
time  when  I  felt  my  hard  duty  toward  them  most  painfully — shook 
me,  as  a  man  of  my  years  and  my  way  of  life  is  not  often  shaken  by 
any  distress  in  the  present,  or  any  suspense  in  the  future.  I  have 
not  recovered  it  this  morning:  I  hardly  feel  sure  of  myself  yet." 

"A  man's  composure — when  he  is  a  man  like  you — comes  with 
the  necessity  for  it,"  said  Mr.  Clare.  "  You  must  have  had  duties 
to  perform  as  trying  in  their  way  as  the  duty  that  lies  before  you 
this  morning." 

Mr.  Pendril  shook  his  head.  "  Many  duties  as  serious ;  many  sto- 
ries more  romantic.    No  duty  so  trying,  no  story  so  hopeless,  as  this." 

With  those  words  they  parted.  Mr.  Pendril  left  the  garden  for 
the  shrubbery  path  which  led  to  Combe-Raven.  Mr.  Clare  returned 
to  the  cottage. 

On  reaching  the  passage,  he  looked  through  the  open  door  of  his 
little  parlor,  and  saw  Frank  sitting  there  in  idle  wretchedness,  with 
his  head  resting  wearily  on  his  hand. 

"I  have  had  an  answer  from  your  employers  in  London,"  said  Mr. 
Clare.  "  In  consideration  of  what  has  happened,  they  will  allow  the 
offer  they  made  you  to  stand  over  for  another  month." 


102  NO   NAME. 

Frank  changed  color,  and  rose  nervously  from  his  chair. 

"Are  my  prospects  altered?"  he  asked.  "Are  Mr.  Vanstone's 
plans  for  me  not  to  be  carried  out  ?  He  told  Magdalen  his  will 
had  provided  for  her.  She  repeated  his  words  to  me;  she  said  I 
ought  to  know  all  that  his  goodness  and  generosity  had  done  for 
both  of  us.  How  can  his  death  make  a  change  ?  Has  any  thing 
happened  ?" 

"  Wait  till  Mr.  Pendril  comes  back  from  Combe-Raven,"  said  his 
father.     "  Question  him — don't  question  me." 

The  ready  tears  rose  in  Frank's  eyes. 

"  You  won't  be  hard  on  me  ?"  he  pleaded,  faintly.  "  You  won't 
expect  me  to  go  back  to  London  without  seeing  Magdalen  first  ?" 

Mr.  Clare  looked  thoughtfully  at  his  son,  and  considered  a  little 
before  he  replied. 

"You  may  dry  your  eyes,"  he  said.  "You  shall  see  Magdalen 
before  you  go  back." 

He  left  the  room,  after  making  that  reply,  and  withdrew  to  his 
study.  The  books  lay  ready  to  his  hand  as  usual.  He  opened  one 
of  them,  and  set  himself  to  read  in  the  customary  manner.  But 
his  attention  wandered;  and  his  eyes  strayed  away  from  time  to 
time,  to  the  empty  chair  opposite — the  chair  in  which  his  old  friend 
and 'gossip  had  sat  and  wrangled  with  him  good-humoredly  for 
many  and  many  a  year  past.  After  a  struggle  with  himself,  he 
closed  the  book.  "  D — n  the  chair !"  he  said :  "  it  will  talk  of 
him ;  and  I  must  listen."  He  reached  down  his  pipe  from  the 
wall,  and  mechanically  filled  it  with  tobacco.  His  hand  shook, 
his  eyes  wandered  back  to  the  old  place ;  and  a  heavy  sigh  came 
from  him  unwillingly.  That  empty  chair  was  the  only  earthly  ar- 
gument for  which  he  had  no  answer :  his  heart  owned  its  defeat, 
and  moistened  his  eyes  in  spite  of  him.  "  He  has  got  the  better 
of  me  at  last,"  said  the  rugged  old  man.  "  There  is  one  weak  place 
left  in  me  still — and  he  has  found  it." 

Meanwhile  Mr.  Pendril  entered  the  shrubbery,  and  followed  the 
path  which  led  to  the  lonely  garden  and  the  desolate  house.  He 
was  met  at  the  door  by  the  man-servant,  who  was  apparently  wait- 
ing in  expectation  of  his  arrival. 

"  I  have  an  appointment  with  Miss  Garth.  Is  she  ready  to  see 
me  ?" 

"  Quite  ready,  sir." 

"  Is  she  alone  ?" 

"  Yes,  sir." 

"  In  the  room  which  was  Mr.  Vanstone's  study  ?" 

"  In  that  room,  sir." 

The  servant  opened  the  door,'  and  Mr.  Pendril  went  in. 

The  governess  stood  alone  at  the  study  window.     The  morning 


NO   NAME.  103 

was  oppressively  hot,  and  she  threw  up  the  lower  sash  to  admit 
more  air  into  the  room,  as  Mr.  Pendril  entered  it. 

They  bowed  to  each  other  with  a  formal  politeness,  which  betray- 
ed on  either  side  an  uneasy  sense  of  restraint.  Mr.  Pendril  was  one 
of  the  many  men  who  appear  superficially  to  the  worst  advantage, 
under  the  influence  of  strong  mental  agitation  which  it  is  necessary 
for  them  to  control.  Miss  Garth,  on  her  side,  had  not  forgotten  the 
ungraciously  guarded  terms  in  which  the  lawyer  had  replied  to  her 
letter;  and  the  natural  anxiety  which  she  had  felt  on  the  subject  of 
the  interview  was  not  relieved  by  any  favorable  opinion  of  the  man 
who  sought  it.  As  they  confronted  each  other  in  the  silence  of  the 
summer's  morning — both  dressed  in  black;  Miss  Garth's  hard  fea- 
tures, gaunt  and  haggard  with  grief;  the  lawyer's  cold,  colorless 
face,  void  of  all  marked  expression,  suggestive  of  a  business  embar- 
rassment and  of  nothing  more— it  would  have  been  hard  to  find 
two  persons  less  attractive  externally  to  any  ordinary  sympathies 
than  the  two  who  had  now  met  together,  the  one  to  tell,  the  other 
to  hear,  the  secrets  of  the  dead. 

"  I  am  sincerely  sorry,  Miss  Garth,  to  intrude  on  you  at  such  a 
time  as  this.  But  circumstances,  as  I  have  already  explained,  leave 
me  no  other  choice." 

"  Will  you  take  a  seat,  Mr.  Pendril  ?  You  wished  to  see  me  in 
this  room,  I  believe  ?" 

"  Only^n  this  room,  because  Mr.  Vanstone's  papers  are  kept  here, 
and  I  may  find  it  necessary  to  refer  to  some  of  them." 

After  that  formal  interchange  of  question  and  answer,  they  sat 
down  on  either  side  of  a  table  placed  close  under  the  window.  One 
waited  to  speak,  the  other  waited  to  hear.  There  was  a  momentary 
silence.  Mr.  Pendril  broke  it  by  referring  to  the  young  ladies,  with 
the  customary  incpiiries,  and  the  customary  expressions  of  sympathy. 
Miss  Garth  answered  him  with  the  same  ceremony,  in  the  same  con- 
ventional tone.  There  was  a  second  pause  of  silence.  The  hum- 
ming of  flies  among  the  evergreen  shrubs  under  the  window  pene- 
trated drowsily  into  the  room ;  and  the  tramp  of  a  heavy-footed 
cart-horse,  plodding  along  the  high-road  beyond  the  garden,  was 
as  plainly  audible  in  the  stillness  as  if  it  had  been  night. 

The  lawyer  roused  his  flagging  resolution,  and  spoke  to  the  pur- 
pose when  he  spoke  next. 

"You  have  some  reason,  Miss  Garth,"  he  began,  "to  feel  not 
quite  satisfied  with  my  past  conduct  toward  you,  in  one  particular. 
During  Mrs.  Vanstone's  fatal  illness,  you  addressed  a  letter  to  me, 
making  certain  inquiries;  which,  while  she  lived,  it  was  impossible 
for  me  to  answer.  'Her  deplorable  death  releases  me  from  the  re- 
straint which  I  had  imposed  on  myself,  and  permits  —  or,  more 
properly,  obliges  me  to  speak.     You  shall  know  what  serious  rea- 


104  NO   NAME. 

sons  I  had  for  waiting  day  and  night  in  the  hope  of  obtaining  that 
interview  which  unhappily  never  took  place ;  and  in  justice  to  Mr. 
Vanstone's  memory,  your  own  eyes  shall  inform  you  that  he  made 
his  will." 

He  rose ;  unlocked  a  little  iron  safe  in  the  corner  of  the  room ; 
and  returned  to  the  table  with  some  folded  sheets  of  paper,  which 
he  spread  open  under  Miss  Garth's  eyes.  When  she  had  read  the 
first  words,  "  In  the  name  of  God,  Amen,"  he  turned  the  sheet,  and 
pointed  to  the  end  of  the  next  page.  She  saw  the  well-known  sig- 
nature :  "  Andrew  Vanstone."  She  saw  the  customary  attestations 
of  the  two  witnesses ;  and  the  date  of  the  document,  reverting  to  a 
period  of  more  than  five  years  since.  Having  thus  convinced  her 
of  the  formality  of  the  will,  the  lawyer  interposed  before  she  could 
question  him,  and  addressed  her  in  these  words: 

"  I  must  not  deceive  you,"  he  said.  "  I  have  my  own  reasons  for 
producing  this  document." 

"  What  reasons,  sir  ?" 

"  You  shall  hear  them.  When  you  are  in  possession  of  the  truth, 
these  pages  may  help  to  preserve  your  respect  for  Mr.  Vanstone's 
memory — " 

Miss  Garth  started  back  in  her  chair. 

"  What  do  you  mean  ?"  she  asked,  with  a  stern  straightforward- 
ness. 

He  took  no  heed  of  the  question ;  he  went  on  as  if  she  had  not 
interrupted  him. 

"  I  have  a  second  reason,"  he  continued,  "  for  showing  you  the 
will.  If  I  can  prevail  on  you  to  read  certain  clauses  in  it,  under  my 
superintendence,  you  will  make  your  own  discovery  of  the  circum- 
stances which  I  am  here  to  disclose — circumstances  so  painful,  that 
I  hardly  know  how  to  communicate  them  to  you  with  my  own  lips." 

Miss  Garth  looked  him  steadfastly  in  the  face. 

"Circumstances,  sir,  which  affect  the  dead  parents,  or  the  livjflg 
children  ?" 

"Which  affect  the  dead  and  the  living  both,"  answered  the  law- 
yer. "  Circumstances,  I  grieve  to  say,  which  involve  the  future  of 
Mr.  Vanstone's  unhappy  daughters." 

"  Wait,"  said  Miss  Garth,  "  wait  a  little."  She  pushed  her  gray 
hair  back  from  her  temples,  and  struggled  with  the  sickness  of 
heart,  the  dreadful  faintness  of  terror,  which  would  have  overpower- 
ed a  younger  or  a  less  resolute  woman.  Her  eyes,  dim  with  watch- 
ing, weary  with  grief,  searched  the  lawyer's  unfathomable  face. 
"  His  unhappy  daughters?"  she  repeated  to  herself,  vacantly.  "He 
talks  as  if  there  was  some  worse  calamity  than" the  calamity  which 
has  made  them  orphans."  She  paused  once  more ;  and  rallied  ner 
sinking  courage.     "  I  will  not  make  your  hard  duty,  sir,  more  paw< 


HER    KYES,    DIM     WITH    WATCHING,    WEARY    WITH     GRIEF,    SEARCHED    THB 
lawyer's   UNFATHOMABLE    FACE. 


NO    NAME.  107 

ful  to'  you  than  I  can  help,"  she  resumed.  "  Show  me  the  place  in 
the  will.     Let  me  read  it,  and  know  the  worst." 

Mr.  Pendril  turned  back  to  the  first  page,  and  pointed  to  a  certain 
place  in  the  cramped  lines  of  wilting.     "  Begin  here,"  he  said. 

She  tried  to  begin ;  she  tried  to  follow  his  finger,  as  she  had  fol- 
lowed it  already  to  the  signatures  and  the  dates.  But  her  senses 
seemed  to  share  the  confusion  of  her  mind — the  words  mingled  to- 
gether, and  the  lines  swam  before  her  eyes. 

"  I  can't  follow  you,"  she  said.  "  You  must  tell  it,  or  read  it  to 
me."  She  pushed  her  chair  back  from  the  table,  and  tried  to  col- 
lect herself.  "  Stop  I"  she  exclaimed,  as  the  lawyer,  with  visible 
hesitation  and  reluctance,  took  the  papers  in  his  own  hand.  "  One 
question,  first.     Does  his  will  provide  for  his  children  ?" 

"  His  will  provided  for  them,  when  he  made  it." 

"  When  he  made  it !"  (Something  of  her  natural  bluntness  broke 
out  in  her  manner  as  she  repeated  the  answer.)  "  Does  it  provide 
for  them  now  ?" 

"It  does  not." 

She  snatched  the  will  from  his  hand,  and  threw  it  into  a  corner 
of  the  room.  "You  mean  well,"  she  said;  "\ou  wish  to  spare  me 
— but  you  are  wasting  your  time,  and  my  strength.  If  the  will  is 
useless,  there  let  it  lie.  Tell  me  the  truth,  Mr.  Pendril — tell  it  plain- 
ly, tell  it  instantly,  in  your  own  words !" 

He  felt  that  it  would  be  useless  cruelty  to  resist  that  appeal. 
There  was  no  merciful  alternative  but  to  answer  it  on  the  spot. 

"  I  must  refer  you  to  the  spiing  of  the  present  year,  Miss  Garth. 
Do  you  remember  the  fourth  of  March  ?" 

Her  attention  wandered  again ;  a  thought  seemed  to  have  struck 
her  at  the  moment  when  he  spoke.  Instead  of  answering  his  in- 
quiry, she  put  a  question  of  her  own. 

"  Let  me  break  the  news  to  myself,"  she  said — "  let  me  anticipate 
you,  if  I  can.  His  useless  will,  the  terms  in  which  you  speak  of  his 
daughters,  the  doubt  you  seem  to  feel  of  my  continued  respect  for 
his  memory,  have  opened  a  new  view  to  me.  Mr.  Vanstone  has  died 
a  ruined  man— is  that  what  you  had  to  tell  me  ?" 

"  Far  from  it.  Mr.  Vanstone  has  died,  leaving  a  fortune  of  more 
than  eighty  thousand  pounds — a  fortune  invested  in  excellent  se- 
curities. He  lived  up  to  his  income,  but  never  beyond  it ;  and  all 
his  debts  added  together  would  not  reach  two  hundred  pounds. 
If  he  had  died  a  ruined  man,  I  should  have  felt  deeply  for  his  chil- 
dren; but  I  should  not  have  hesitated  to  tell  you  the  truth,  as  I  am 
hesitating  now.  Let  me  repeat  a  question  which  escaped  you,  I 
think,  when  I  first  put  it.  Carry  your  mind  back  to  the  spring  of 
this  year.     Do  you  remember  the  fourth  of  March  ?" 

Miss  Garth  shook  her  head.     "  My  memory  for  dates  is  bad  at 


108  NO   NAME. 

the  best  of  times,'1  she  said.  "  I  am  too  confused  to  exert  it  at  9 
moment's  notice.     Can  you  put  your  question  in  no  other  form  ?" 

He  put  it  in  this  form : 

"Do  you  remember  any  domestic  event  in  the  spring  of  the  pres- 
ent year  which  appeared  to  affect  Mr.  Vanstone  more  seriously  than 
usual ?" 

Miss  Garth  leaned  forward  in  her  chair,  and  looked  eagerly  at  Mr. 
Pendril  across  the  table.  "  The  journey  to  London  !"  she  exclaim- 
ed. "  I  distrusted  the  journey  to  London  from  the  first !  Yes !  I 
remember  Mr.  Vanstone  receiving  a  letter — I  remember  his  reading 
it,  and  looking  so  altered  from  himself  that  he  startled  us  all." 

"Did  you  notice  any  apparent  understanding  oetween  Mr.  and 
Mrs.  Vanstone  on  the  subject  of  that  letter?" 

"Yes:  I  did.  One  of  the  girls — it  was  Magda  1 — mentioned 
the  post-mark ;  some  place  in  America.  It  all  come  back  to  me, 
Mr.  Pendril.  Mrs.  Vanstone  looked  excited  and  anxious,  the  mo- 
ment she  heard  the  place  named.  They  went  to  London  together 
the  next  day;  they  explained  nothing  to  their  daughters,  nothing 
to  me.  Mrs.  Vanstone  said  the  journey  was  for  family  affairs.  I 
suspected  something  wrong ;  I  couldn't  tell  what.  Mrs.  Vanstone 
wrote  to  me  from  London,  saying  that  her  object  was  to  consult  a 
physician  on  the  state  of  her  health,  and  not  to  alarm  her  daughters 
by  telling  them.  Something  in  the  letter  rather  hurt  me  at  the 
time.  I  thought  there  might  be  some  other  motive  that  she  was 
keeping  from  me.     Did  I  do  her  wrong  ?" 

"  You  did  her  no  wrong.  There  was  a  motive  which  she  was 
keeping  from  you.  In  revealing  that  motive,  I  reveal  the  painful 
secret  which  brings  me  to  this  house.  All  that  I  could  do  to  pre- 
pare you,  1  have  done.  Let  me  now  tell  the  truth  in  the  plainest 
and  fewest  words.  When  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Vanstone  left  Combe-Ra- 
ven, in  the  March  of  the  present  year — " 

Before  he  could  complete  the  sentence,  a  sudden  movement  of 
Miss  Garth's  interrupted  him.  She  started  violently,  and  looked 
round  toward  the  window.  "  Only  the  wind  among  the  leaves," 
she  said,  faintly.  "  My  nerves  are  so  shaken,  the  least  thing  startles 
me.  Speak  out,  for  God's  sake !  When  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Vanstone  left 
this  house,  tell  me  in  plain  words,  why  did  they  go  to  London  ?" 

In  plain  words,  Mr.  Pendril  told  her : 

"  They  went  to  London  to  be  married." 

With  that  answer  he  placed  a  slip  of  paper  on  the  table.  It  was 
the  marriage  certificate  of  the  dead  parents,  and  the  date  it  bore 
was  March  the  twentieth,  eighteen  hundred  and  forty-six. 

Miss  Garth  neither  moved  nor  spoke.  The  certificate  lay  beneath 
her  unnoticed.  She  sat  with  her  eyes  rooted  on  the  lawyer's  face; 
her  mind  stunned,  her  senses  helpless.     He  saw  that  all  his  efforts 


NO    NAME.  109 

to  break  the  shock  of  the  discovery  had  been  efforts  made  in  vain; 
he  felt  the  vital  importance  of  rousing  her,  and  firmly  and  distinctly 
repeated  the  fatal  words. 

"They  went  to  London  to  be  married,"  he  said.  "Try  to  rouse 
yourself:  try  to  realize  the  plain  fact  first :  the  explanation  shall 
come  afterward.  Miss  Garth,  I  speak  the  miserable  truth !  In  the 
spring  of  this  year  they  left  home ;  they  lived  in  London  for  a  fort- 
night, in  the  strictest  retirement ;  they  were  married  by  license  at 
the  end  of  that  time.  There  is  a  copy  of  the  certificate,  which  I 
myself  obtained  on  Monday  last.  Read  the  date  of  the  marriage  for 
yourself.  It  is  Friday,  the  twentieth  of  March — the  March  of  this 
present  year." 

As  he  pointed  to  the  certificate,  that  faint  breath  of  air  among  the 
shrubs  beneath  the  window,  which  had  startled  Miss  Garth,  stirred 
the  leaves  once  more.  He  heard  it  himself  this  time,  and  turned 
his  face,  so  as  to  let  the  breeze  play  upon  it.  No  breeze  came ;  no 
breath  of  air  that  was  strong  enough  for  him  to  feel,  floated  into  the 
room. 

Miss  Garth  roused  herself  mechanically,  and  read  the  certificate. 
It  seemed  to  produce  no  distinct  impression  on  her :  she  laid  it  on 
one  side  in  a  lost,  bewildered  manner.  "  Twelve  years,"  she  said,  in 
low,  hopeless  tones—"  twelve  quiet,  happy  years  I  lived  with  this 
family.  Mrs.  Vanstone  was  my  friend ;  my  dear,  valued  friend — my 
sister,  I  might  almost  say.  I  can't  believe  it.  Bear  with  me  a  lit- 
tle, sir,  I  can't  believe  it  yet." 

"  I  shall  help  you  to  believe  it  when  I  tell  you  more,"  said  Mr. 
Pendril — "  you  will  understand  me  better  when  I  take  you  back  to 
the  time  of  Mr.  Vanstone's  early  life.  I  won't  ask  for  your  attention 
just  yet.     Let  us  wait  a  little,  until  you  recover  yourself." 

They  waited  a  few  minutes.  The  lawyer  took  some  letters  from 
his  pocket,  referred  to  them  attentively,  and  put  them  back  again. 
"  Can  you  listen  to  me,  now  ?"  he  asked,  kindly.  She  bowed  her 
head  in  answer.  Mr.  Pendril  considered  with  himself  for  a  moment. 
"  I  must  caution  you  on  one  point,"  he  said.  "  If  the  aspect  of  Mr. 
Vanstone's  character  which  I  am  now  about  to  present  to  you  seems 
in  some  respects  at  variance  with  your  later  experience,  bear  in  mind 
that,  when  you  first  knew  him  twelve  years  since,  he  was  a  man  of 
forty ;  and  that,  when  I  first  knew  him,  he  was  a  lad  of  nineteen." 

His  next  words  raised  the  veil,  and  showed  the  irrevocable  Past. 


110  NO   NAME. 


CHAPTER  XIII. 

"  The  fortune  which  Mr.  Vanstone  possessed  when  you  knew 
Mm "  (the  lawyer  began)  "  was  part,  and  part  only,  of  the  inherit- 
ance which  fell  to  him  on  his  father's  death.  Mr.  Vanstone  the  eld- 
er, was  a  manufacturer  in  the  North  of  England.  He  married  early 
in  life ;  and  the  children  of  the  marriage  were  either  six  or  seven 
in  number — I  am  not  certain  which.  First,  Michael,  the  eldest  son, 
still  living,  and  now  an  old  man  turned  seventy.  Secondly,  Selina, 
the  eldest  daughter,  who  married  in  after-life,  and  who  died  ten  or 
eleven  years  ago.  After  those  two  came  other  sons  and  daughters, 
whose  early  deaths  make  it  unnecessary  to  mention  them  particular- 
ly. The  last  and  by  many  years  the  youngest  of  the  children  was 
Andrew,  whom  I  first  knew,  as  I  told  you,  at  the  a  if  nineteen. 
My  father  was  then  on  the  point  of  retiring  from  tin  jtive  pursuit 
of  his  profession ;  and,  in  succeeding  to  his  business,  z  also  succeed- 
ed to  his  connection  with  the  Vanstones,  as  the  family  solicitor. 

"At  that  time,  Andrew  had  just  started  in  life  by" entering  the 
army.  After  little  more  than  a  year  of  home-service,  he  was  order- 
ed out  with  his  regiment  to  Canada.  When  he  quitted  England, 
he  left  his  father  and  his  elder  brother  Michael  seriously  at  variance. 
I  need  not  detain  you  by  entering  into  the  cause  of  the  quarrel.  I 
need  only  tell  you  that  the  elder  Mr.  Vanstone,  with  many  excellent 
qualities,  was  a  man  of  fierce  and  intractable  temper.  His  eldest 
son  had  set  him  at  defiance,  under  circumstances  which  might  have 
justly  irritated  a  father  of  far  milder  character ;  and  he  declared, 
in  the  most  positive  terms,  that  he  would  never  see  Michael's  face 
again.  In  defiance  of  my  entreaties,  and  of  the  entreaties  of  his 
wife,  he  tore  up,  in  our  presence,  the  will  which  provided  for  Mi- 
chael's share  in  the  paternal  inheritance.  Such  was  the  family  posi- 
tion, when  the  younger  son  left  home  for  Canada. 

"  Some  months  after  Andrew's  arrival  with  his  regiment  at  Que- 
bec, he  became  acquainted  with  a  woman  of  great  personal  attrac- 
tions, who  came,  or  said  she  came,  from  one  of  the  Southern  States 
of  America.  She  obtained  an  immediate  influence  over  him ;  and 
she  used  it  to  the  basest  purpose,  you  knew  the  easy,  affectionate, 
trusting  nature  of  the  man  in  later  life  — you  can  imagine  how 
thoughtlessly  he  acted  on  the  impulses  of  his  youth.  It  is  useless 
to  dwell  on  this  lamentable  part  of  the  story.  He  was  just  twenty- 
one  :  he  was  blindly  devoted  to  a  worthless  woman ;  and  she  led 


NO   NAME.  Ill 

him  on,  with  merciless  cunning,  till  it  was  too  late  to  draw  back. 
In  one  word,  be  committed  the  fatal  error  of  his  life  :  he  married 
her. 

"  She  had  been  wise  enough  in  her  own  interests  to  dread  the  in- 
fluence of  his  brother-officers,  and  to  peisuade  him,  up  to  the  period 
of  the  marriage  ceremony,  to  keep  the  proposed  union  between  them 
a  secret.  She  could  do  this ;  but  she  could  not  provide  against  the 
results  of  accident.  Hardly  three  months  had  passed,  when  a  chance 
disclosure  exposed  the  life  she  had  led  before  her  marriage.  But 
one  alternative  was  left  to  her  husband — the  alternative  of  instantly 
separating  from  her. 

"  The  effect  of  the  discovery  on  the  unhappy  boy — for  a  boy  in 
disposition  he  still  was — may  be  judged  by  the  event  which  follow- 
ed the  exposure.  One  of  Andrew's  superior  officers — a  certain  Ma- 
jor Kirke,  if  I  remember  right — found  him  in  his  quarters,  writing 
to  his  father  a  confession  of  the  disgraceful  truth,  with  a  loaded  pis- 
tol by  his  side.  That  officer  saved  the  lad's  life  from  his  own  hand, 
and  hushed  up  the  scandalous  affair  by  a  compromise.  The  mar- 
riage being  a  perfectly  legal  one,  and  the  wife's  misconduct  prior  to 
the  ceremony  giving  her  husband  no  claim  to  his  release  from  her 
by  divorce,  it  was  only  possible  to  appeal  to  her  sense  of  her  own 
interests.  A  handsome  annual  allowance  was  secured  to  her,  on 
condition  that  she  returned  to  the  place  from  which  she  had  come ; 
that  she  never  appeared  in  England ;  and  that  she  ceased  to  use 
her  husband's  name.  Other  stipulations  were  added  to  these.  She 
accepted  them  all ;  and  measures  were  privately  taken  to  have  her 
well  looked  after  in  the  place  of  her  retreat.  What  life  she  led 
there,  and  whether  she  performed  all  the  conditions  imposed  on 
her,  I  can  not  say.  I  can  only  tell  you  that  she  never,  to  my  knowl- 
edge, came  to  England ;  that  she  never  annoyed  Mr.  Vanstone ;  and 
that  the  annual  allowance  was  paid  her,  through  a  local  agent  in 
America,  to  the  day  of  her  death.  All  that  she  wanted  in  marrying 
him  was  money ;  and  money  she  got. 

"  In  the  mean  time,  Andrew  had  left  the  regiment.  Nothing 
would  induce  him  to  face  his  brother-officers  after  what  had  hap- 
pened. He  sold  out  and  returned  to  England.  The  first  intelli- 
gence which  reached  him  on  his  return  was  the  intelligence  of  his 
father's  death.  He  came  to  my  office  in  London,  before  going 
home,  and  there  learned  from  my  lips  how  the  family  quarrel  had 
ended. 

"  The  will  which  Mr.  Vanstone  the  elder  had  destroyed  in  my 
presence  had  not  been,  so  far  as  I  know,  replaced  by  another. 
When  I  was  sent  for,  in  the  usual  course,  on  his  death,  I  fully  ex- 
pected that  the  law  would  be  left  to  make  the  customary  divis- 
ion among  his  widow  and  his  children.    To  my  surprise,  a  will  ap> 


112  NO   NAME. 

peared  among  his  papers,  correctly  drawn  and  executed,  and  dated 
about  a  week  after  the  period  when  the  first  will  had  been  destroy- 
ed. He  had  maintained  his  vindictive  purpose  against  his  eldest 
son,  and  had  applied  to  a  stranger  for  the  professional  assistance 
which  I  honestly  believe  he  was  ashamed  to  ask  for  at  my  hands. 

"  It  is  needless  to  trouble  you  with  the  provisions  of  the  will  in 
detail.  There  were  the  widow,  and  three  surviving  children  to  be 
provided  for.  The  widow  received  a  life-interest  only  in  a  portion 
of  the  testator's  property.  The  remaining  portion  was  divided  be- 
tween Andrew  and  Selina — two-thirds  to  the  brother;  one-third  to 
the  sister.  On  the  mother's  death,  the  money  from  which  her  in- 
come had  been  derived  was  to  go  to  Andrew  and  Selina,  in  the 
same  relative  proportions  as  before — five  thousand  pounds  having 
been  first  deducted  from  the  sum,  and  paid  to  Michael,  as  the  sole 
legacy  left  by  the  implacable  father  to  his  eldest  son. 

"  Speaking  in  round  numbers,  the  division  of  property,  as  settled 
by  the  will,  stood  thus.  Before  the  mother's  death,  Andrew  had 
seventy  thousand  pounds ;  Selina  had  thirty-five  thousand  pounds ; 
Michael — had  nothing.  After  the  mother's  death,  Michael  had  five 
thousands  pounds,  to  set  against  Andrew's  inheritance  augmented 
to  one  hundred  thousand,  and  Selina's  inheritance  increased  to  fifty 
thousand. — Do  not  suppose  that  I  am  dwelling  unnecessarily  on  this 
part  of  the  subject.  Every  word  I  now  speak  bears  on  interests  still 
in  suspense,  which  vitally  concern  Mr.  Vanstone's  daughters.  As 
we  get  on  from  past  to  present,  keep  in  mind  the  terrible  inequality 
of  Michael's  inheritance  and  Andrew's  inheritance.  The  harm  done 
by  that  vindictive  will  is,  I  greatly  fear,  not  over  yet. 

"Andrew's  first  impulse,  when  he  heard  the  news  which  I  had  to 
tell  him,  was  worthy  of  the  open,  generous  nature  of  the  man.  He 
at  once  jjroposed  to  divide  his  inheritance  with  his  elder  brother. 
But  there  was  one  serious  obstacle  in  the  way.  A  letter  from  Mi- 
chael was  waiting  for  him  at  my  office  when  he  came  there,  and  that 
letter  charged  him  with  being  the  original  cause  of  estrangement 
between  his  father  and  his  elder  brother.  The  efforts  which  he  had 
made  —  bluntly  and  incautiously,  I  own ;  but  with  the  purest  and 
kindest  intentions,  as  I  know — to  compose  the  quarrel  before  leav 
ing  home,  were  perverted  by  the  vilest  misconstruction,  to  support 
an  accusation  of  treachery  and  falsehood  which  would  have  stung 
any  man  to  the  quick.  Andrew  felt,  what  I  felt,  that  if  these  im- 
putations were  not  withdrawn  before  his  generous  intentions  to- 
ward his  brother  took  effect,  the  mere  fact  of  their  execution  would 
amount  to  a  practical  acknowledgment  of  the  justice  of  Michael's 
charge  against  him.  He  wrote  to  his  brother  in  the  most  forbearing 
terms.  The  answer  received  was  as  offensive  as  words  could  make 
it.     Michael  had  inherited  his  father's  temper,  unredeemed  by  his 


NO    NAME.  113 

father's  better  qualities:  his  second  letter  reiterated  the  charges 
contained  in  the  tirst,  and  declared  that  he  would  only  accept  the 
offered  division  as  an  act  of  atonement  and  restitution  on  Andrew's 
part.  I  next  wrote  to  the  mother  to  use  her  influence.  She  was 
herself  aggrieved  at  being  left  with  nothing  more  than  a  life  interest 
in  her  husband's  property ;  she  sided  resolutely  with  Michael ;  and 
she  stigmatized  Andrew's  proposal  as  an  attempt  to  bribe  her  eld- 
est son  into  withdrawing  a  charge  against  his  brother  which  that 
brother  knew  to  be  true.  After  this  last  repulse,  nothing  more  could 
be  done.  Michael  withdrew  to  the  Continent ;  and  his  mother  fol- 
lowed him  there.  She  lived  long  enough,  and  saved  money  enough 
out  of  her  income,  to  add  considerably,  at  her  death,  to  her  elder 
son's  five  thousand  pounds.  He  had  previously  still  further  im- 
proved his  pecuniary  position  by  an  advantageous  marriage ;  and 
he  is  now  passing  the  close  of  his  days  either  in  France  or  Switzer- 
land— a  widower,  with  one  son.  We  shall  return  to  him  shortly.  In 
the  mean  time,  I  need  only  tell  you  that  Andrew  and  Michael  never 
again  met — never  again  communicated,  even  by  writing.  To  all  in- 
tents and  purposes,  they  were  dead  to  each  other,  from  those  early 
days  to  the  present  time. 

"  You  can  now  estimate  what  Andrew's  position  was  when  he  left 
his  profession  and  returned  to  England.  Possessed  of  a  fortune,  he 
was  alone  in  the  world ;  his  future  destroyed  at  the  fair  outset  of 
life ;  his  mother  and  brother  estranged  from  him ;  his  sister  lately 
married,  with  interests  and  hopes  in  which  he  had  no  share.  Men 
of  firmer  mental  calibre  might  have  found  refuge  from  such  a  situa- 
tion as  this  in  an  absorbing  intellectual  pursuit.  He  was  not  capa- 
ble of  the  effort ;  all  the  strength  of  his  character  lay  in  the  affec- 
tions he  had  wasted.  His  place  in  the  world  was  that  quiet  place 
at  home,  with  wife  and  children  to  make  his  life  happy,  which  he 
had  lost  forever.  To  look  back  was  more  than  he  dare.  To  look 
forward  was  more  than  he  could.  In  sheer  despair,  he  let  his  own 
impetuous  youth  drive  him  on;  and  cast  himself  into  the  lowest  dis- 
sipations of  a  London  life. 

"A  woman's  falsehood  had  driven  him  to  his  ruin.  A  woman's 
love  saved  him  at  the  outset  of  his  downward  career.  Let  us  not 
speak  of  her  harshly — for  we  laid  her  with  him  yesterday  in  the 
grave. 

"  You,  who  only  knew  Mrs.  Vanstone  in  later  life,  when  illness 
and  sorrow  and  secret  care  had  altered  and  saddened  her,  can  form 
no  adequate  idea  of  her  attractions  of  person  and  character  when 
she  was  a  girl  of  seventeen.  I  was  with  Andrew  when  he  first  met 
her.  I  had  tried  to  rescue  him,  for  one  night  at  least,  from  degrad- 
ing associates  and  degrading  pleasures,  by  persuading  him  to  go 
with  me  to  a  ball  given  by  one  of  the  great  City  Companies.     There 


• 


114  NO   NAME. 

they  met.  She  produced  a  strong  impression  on  him,  the  moment 
he  saw  her.  To  me,  as  to  him,  she  was  a  total  stranger.  An  in- 
troduction to  her,  obtained  in  the  customary  manner,  informed  him 
that  she  was  the  daughter  of  one  Mr.  Blake.  The  rest  he  discover- 
ed from  herself.  They  were  partners  in  the  dance  (unobserved  in 
that  crowded  ball-room)  all  through  the  evening. 

"  Circumstances  were  against  her  from  the  first.  She  was  unhap- 
py at  home.  Her  family  and  friends  occupied  no  recognized  station 
in  life  :  they  were  mean,  underhand  people,  in  every  way  unworthy 
of  her.  It  was  her  first  ball — it  was  the  first  time  she  had  ever  met 
with  a  man  who  had  the  breeding,  the  manners,  and  the  conversa- 
tion  of  a  gentleman.  Are  these  excuses  for  her,  which  I  have  no 
right  to  make  ?  If  we  have  any  human  feeling  for  human  weakness, 
surely  not ! 

"  The  meeting  of  that  night  decided  their  future.  When  other 
meetings  had  followed,  when  the  confession  of  her  love  had  escaped 
her,  he  took  the  one  course  of  all  others  (took  it  innocently  and  un- 
consciously), which  was  most  dangerous  to  them  both.  His  frank- 
ness and  his  sense  of  honor  forbade  him  to  deceive  her  :  he  opened 
his  heart,  and  told  her  the  truth.  She  was  a  generous,  impulsive 
girl ;  she  had  no  home  ties  strong  enough  to  plead  with  her ;  she 
was  passionately  fond  of  him— and  he  had  made  that  appeal  to  her 
pity  which,  to  the  eternal  honor  of  women,  is  the  hardest  of  all  ap- 
peals for  them  to  resist.  She  saw,  and  saw  truly,  that  she  alone 
stood  between  him  and  his  ruin.  The  last  chance  of  his  rescue 
hung  on  her  decision.     She  decided ;  and  saved  him. 

"  Let  me  not  be  misunderstood ;  let  me  not  be  accused  of  trifling 
with  the  serious  social  question  on  which  my  narrative  forces  me 
to  touch.  I  will  defend  her  memory  by  no  false  reasoning — I  will 
only  speak  the  truth.  It  is  the  truth  that  she  snatched  him  from 
mad  excesses  which  must  have  ended  in  his  early  death.  It  is  the 
truth  that  she  restored  him  to  that  happy  home-existence  which  you 
remember  so  tenderly — which  he  remembered  so  gratefully  that,  on 
the  day  when  he  was  free,  he  made  her  his  wife.  Let  strict  moral- 
ity claim  its  right,  and  condemn  her  early  fault.  I  have  read  my 
New  Testament  to  little  purpose,  indeed,  if  Christian  mercy  may  not 
soften  the  hard  sentence  against  her — if  Christian  charity  may  not 
find  a  plea  for  her  memory  in  the  love  and  fidelity,  the  suffering  and 
the  sacrifice,  of  her  whole  life. 

"A  few  words  more  will  bring  us  to  a  later  time,  and  to  events 
which  have  happened  within  your  own  experience. 

"  I  need  not  remind  you  that  the  position  in  which  Mr.  Vanstone 
was  now  placed  could  lead  in  the  end  to  but  one  result — to  a  dis- 
closure, more  or  less  inevitable,  of  the  truth.  Attempts  were  made 
to  keep  the  hopeless  misfortune  of  his  life  a  secret  from  Miss  Blake's 


NO    NAME.  115 

family ;  and,  as  a  matter  of  course,  those  attempts  failed  before  the 
relentless  scrutiny  of  her  father  and  her  friends.  What  might  have 
happened  if  her  relatives  had  been,  what  is  termed  '  respectable,'  I 
can  not  pretend  to  say.  As  it  was,  they  were  people  who  could  (in 
the  common  phrase)  be  conveniently  treated  with.  The  only  sur- 
vivor of  the  family  at  the  present  time  is  a  scoundrel  calling  him- 
self Captain  Wragge.  When  I  tell  you  that  he  privately  extorted 
the  price  of  his  silence  from  Mrs.  Vanstone  to  the  last ;  and  when  I 
add  that  his  conduct  presents  no  extraordinary  exception  to  the 
conduct,  in  their  lifetime,  of  the  other  relatives — you  will  under- 
stand what  sort  of  people  I  had  to  deal  with  in  my  client's  interests, 
and  how  their  assumed  indignation  was  appeased. 

"  Having,  in  the  first  instance,  left  England  for  Ireland,  Mr.  Van- 
stone  and  Miss  Blake  remained  there  afterward  for  some  years. 
Girl  as  she  was,  she  faced  her  position  and  its  necessities  without 
flinching.  Having  once  resolved  to  sacrifice  her  life  to  the  man  she 
loved ;  having  quieted  her  conscience  by  persuading  herself  that 
his  marriage  was  a  legal  mockery,  and  that  she  was  '  his  wife  in  the 
sight  of  Heaven;'  she  set  herself  from  the  first  to  accomplish  the 
one  foremost  purpose  of  so  living  with  him,  in  the  world's  eye,  as 
never  to  raise  the  suspicion  that  she  was  not  his  lawful  wife.  The 
women  are  few  indeed,  wTho  can  not  resolve  firmly,  scheme  patient- 
ly, and  act  promptly,  where  the  dearest  interests  of  their  lives  are 
concerned.  Mrs.  Vanstone — she  has  a  right  now,  remember,  to  that 
name — Mrs.  Vanstone  had  more  than  the  average  share  of  a  woman's 
tenacity  and  a  woman's  tact ;  and  she  took  all  the  needful  precau- 
tions, in  those  early  days,  which  her  husband's  less  ready  capacity 
had  not  the  art  to  devise — precautions  to  which  they  were  largely 
indebted  for  the  preservation  of  their  secret  in  later  times. 

"  Thanks  to  these  safeguards,  not  a  shadow  of  suspicion  followed 
them  when  they  returned  to  England.  They  first  settled  in  Devon- 
shire, merely  because  they  were  far  removed  there  from  that  north- 
ern county  in  which  Mr.  Vanstone's  family  and  connections  had 
been  known.  On  the  part  of  his  surviving  relatives,  they  had  no 
curious  investigations  to  dread.  He  was  totally  estranged  from  his 
mother  and  his  elder  brother.  His  married  sister  had  been  forbidden 
by  her  husband  (who  was  a  clergyman)  to  hold  any  communication 
with  him,  from  the  period  when  he  had  fallen  into  the  deplorable 
way  of  life  which  I  have  described  as  following  his  return  from 
Canada,  Other  relations  he  had  none.  When  he  and  Miss  Blake 
left  Devonshire,  their  next  change  of  residence  was  to  this  house. 
Neither  courting  nor  avoiding  notice ;  simply  happy  in  themselves, 
in  their  children,  and  in  their  quiet  rural  life;  unsuspected  by  the 
few  neighbors  who  formed  their  modest  circle  of  acquaintance  to  be 
other  than  what  they  seemed  —  the  truth  in  their  case,  as  in  the 


116  NO   NAME. 

cases  of  many  others,  remained  undiscovered  until  accident  forced 
it  into  the  light  of  day. 

"If,  in  your  close  intimacy  with  them,  it  seems  strange  that  they 
should  never  have  betrayed  themselves,  let  me  ask  you  to  consider 
the  circumstances,  and  you  will  understand  the  apparent  anomaly. 
Remember  that  they  had  been  living  as  husband  and  wife,  to  all  in- 
tents and  purposes  (except  that  the  marriage-service  had  not  been 
read  over  them),  for  fifteen  years  before  you  came  into  the  house ; 
and  bear  in  mind,  at  the  same  time,  that  no  event  occurred  to  dis- 
turb Mr.  Vanstone's  happiness  in  the  present,  to  remind  him  of  the 
past,  or  to  warn  him  of  the  future,  until  the  announcement  of  his 
wife's  death  reached  him,  in  that  letter  from  America  which  you 
saw  placed  in  his  hand.  From  that  day  forth — when  a  past  which 
he  abhorred  was  forced  back  to  his  memory ;  when  a  future  which 
she  had  never  dared  to  anticipate  was  placed  within  her  reach — you 
will  soon  perceive,  if  you  have  not  perceived  already,  that  they  both 
betrayed  themselves,  time  after  time ;  and  that  your  innocence  of  all 
suspicion,  and  their  children's  innocence  of  all  suspicion,  alone  pre- 
vented you  from  discovering  the  truth. 

"  The  sad  story  of  the  past  is  now  as  well  known  to  you  as  to  me. 
I  have  had  hard  words  to  speak.  God  knows  I  have  spoken  them 
with  true  sympathy  for  the  living,  with  true  tenderness  for  the 
memory  of  the  dead." 

He  paused,  turned  his  face  a  little  away,  and  rested  his  head  on 
his  hand,  in  the  quiet  undemonstrative  manner  which  was  natural 
to  him.  Thus  far,  Miss  Garth  had  only  interrupted  his  narrative  by 
an  occasional  word,  or  by  a  mute  token  of  her  attention.  She  made 
no  effort  to  conceal  her  tears;  they  fell  fast  and  silently  over  her 
wasted  cheeks,  as  she  looked  up  and  spoke  to  him.  "  I  have  done 
you  some  injury,  sir,  in  my  thoughts,"  she  said,  with  a  noble  simplic- 
ity. "  I  know  you  better  now.  Let  me  ask  your  forgiveness ;  let 
me  take  your  hand." 

Those  words,  and  the  action  which  accompanied  them,  touched 
him  deeply.  He  took  her  hand  in  silence.  She  was  the  first  to 
speak,  the  first  to  set  the  example  of  self-control.  It  is  one  of  the 
noble  instincts  of  women,  that  nothing  more  powerfully  rouses  them 
to  struggle  with  their  own  sorrow  than  the  sight  of  a  man's  distress. 
She  quietly  dried  her  tears ;  she  quietly  drew  her  chair  round  the 
table,  so  as  to  sit  nearer  to  him  when  she  spoke  again. 

"  I  have  been  sadly  broken,  Mr.  Pendril,  by  what  has  happened 
in  this  house,"  she  said,  "  or  I  should  have  borne  what  you  have 
told  me  better  than  I  have  borne  it  to-day.  Will  you  let  me  ask 
one  question  before  you  go  on  ?  My  heart  aches  for  the  children 
of  my  love — more  than  ever  my  children  now.     Is  there  no  hope  for 


NO   NAME.  117 

their  future  ?     Are  they  left  with  no  prospect  but  poverty  before 
them  ?" 

The  lawyer  hesitated  before  he  answered  the  question. 

"  They  are  left  dependent,"  he  said,  at  last,  "  on  the  justice  and 
the  mercy  of  a  stranger." 

"  Through  the  misfortune  of  their  birth  ?" 

"  Through  the  misfortunes  which  have  followed  the  marriage  of 
their  parents." 

With  that  startling  answer  he  rose,  took  up  the  will  from  the 
floor,  and  restored  it  to  its  former  position  on  the  table  between 
them. 

"  I  can  only  place  the  truth  before  you,"  he  resumed,  "  in  one  plain 
form  of  words.  The  marriage  has  destroyed  this  will,  and  has  left 
Mr.  Vanstone's  daughters  dependent  on  their  uncle." 

As  he  spoke,  the  breeze  stirred  again  among  the  shrubs  under  the 
window. 

"  On  their  uncle  ?"  repeated  Miss  Garth.  She  considered  for  a 
moment,  and  laid  her  hand  suddenly  on  Mr.  Pendrirs  arm.  "Not 
on  Michael  Vanstone !" 

"  Yes :  on  Michael  Vanstone." 

Miss  Garth's  hand  still  mechanically  grasped  the  lawyer's  arm. 
Her  whole  mind  was  absorbed  in  the  effort  to  realize  the  discovery 
which  had  now  burst  on  her. 

"  Dependent  on  Michael  Vanstone  !"  she  said  to  herself.  "  De- 
pendent on  their  father's  bitterest  enemy  ?     How  can  it  be  ?" 

"  Give  me  your  attention  for  a  few  minutes  more,"  said  Mr.  Pen 
dril,  "  and  you  shall  hear.  The  sooner  we  can  bring  this  painful  in- 
terview to  a  close,  the  sooner  I  can  open  communications  with  Mr. 
Michael  Vanstone,  and  the  sooner  you  will  know  what  he  decides 
on  doing  for  his  brother's  orphan  daughters.  I  repeat  to  you  that 
they  are  absolutely  dependent  on  him.  You  will  most  readily  un- 
derstand how  and  why,  if  we  take  up  the  chain  of  events  where  we 
last  left  it — at  the  period  of  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Vanstone's  marriage." 

"  One  moment,  sir,"  said  Miss  Garth.  "  Were  you  in  the  secret  of 
that  marriage  at  the  time  when  it  took  place  ?" 

"  Unhappily,  I  was  not.  I  was  away  from  London — away  from 
England  at  the  time.  If  Mr.  Vanstone  had  been  able  to  communi- 
cate with  me  when  the  letter  from  America  announced  the  death 
of  his  wife,  the  fortunes  of  his  daughters  would  not  have  been  now 
at  stake." 

He  paused,  and,  before  proceeding  further,  looked  once  more  at 
the  letters  which  he  had  consulted  at  an  earlier  period  of  the  inter- 
view. He  took  one  letter  from  the  rest,  and  put  it  on  the  table  by 
his  side. 

"At  the  beginning  of  the  present  year,"  he  resumed,  "a  very  seri- 


118  NO    NAME. 

ous  business  necessity,  in  connection  with  some  West  Indian  prop- 
erty possessed  by  an  old  client  and  friend  of  mine,  required  the 
presence  either  of  myself,  or  of  one  of  my  two  partners,  in  Jamaica. 
One  of  the  two  could  not  be  spared ;  the  other  was  not  in  health  to 
undertake  the  voyage.  There  was  no  choice  left  but  for  me  to  go. 
I  wrote  to  Mr.  Vanstone,  telling  him  that  I  should  leave  England  at 
the  end  of  February,  and  that  the  nature  of  the  business  which  took 
me  away  afforded  little  hope  of  my  getting  back  from  the  West 
Indies  before  June.  My  letter  was  not  written  with  any  special 
motive.  I  merely  thought  it  right — seeing  that  my  partners  were 
not  admitted  to  my  knowledge  of  Mr.  Vanstone's  private  affairs — to 
warn  him  of  my  absence,  as  a  measure  of  formal  precaution  which  it 
was  right  to  take.  At  the  end  of  February  I  left  England,  without 
having  heard  from  him.  I  was  on  the  sea  when  the  news  of  his 
wife's  death  reached  him,  on  the  fourth  of  March ;  and  I  did  not  re- 
turn until  the  middle  of  last  June." 

"You  warned  him  of  your  departure,"  interposed  Miss  Garth. 
"  Did  you  not  warn  him  of  your  return  ?" 

"  Not  personally.  My  head-clerk  sent  him  one  of  the  circulars 
which  were  dispatched  from  my  office,  in  various  directions,  to  an- 
nounce my  return.  It  was  the  first  substitute  I  thought  of,  for  the 
personal  letter  which  the  pressure  of  innumerable  occupations,  all 
crowding  on  me  together  after  my  long  absence,  did  not'  allow  me 
leisure  to  write.  Barely  a  month  later,  the  first  information  of  his 
marriage  reached  me  in  a  letter  from  himself,  written  on  the  day  of 
the  fatal  accident.  The  circumstances  which  induced  him  to  write 
arose  out  of  an  event  in  which  you  must  have  taken  some  interest — 
I  mean  the  attachment  between  Mr.  Clare's  son  and  Mr.  Vanstone's 
youngest  daughter." 

"  I  can  not  say  that  I  was  favorably  disposed  toward  that  attach- 
ment at  the  time,"  replied  Miss  Garth.  "  I  was  ignorant  then  of  the 
family  secret :  I  know  better  now." 

"  Exactly.  The  motive  which  you  can  now  appreciate  is  the  mo- 
tive that  leads  us  to  the  point.  The  young  lady  herself  (as  I  have 
heard  from  the  elder  Mr.  Clare,  to  whom  I  am  indebted  for  my 
knowledge  of  the  circumstances  in  detail)  confessed  her  attachment 
to  her  father,  and  innocently  touched  him  to  the  quick  by  a  chance 
reference  to  his  own  early  life.  He  had  a  long  conversation  with 
Mrs.  Vanstone,  at  which  they  both  agreed  that  Mr.  Clare  must  be 
privately  informed  of  the.  truth,  before  the  attachment  between  the 
two  young  people  was  allowed  to  proceed  further.  It  was  painful 
in  the  last  degree,  both  to  husband  and  wife,  to  be  reduced  to  this 
alternative.  But  they  were  resolute,  honorably  resolute,  in  making 
the  sacrifice  of  their  own  feelings  ;  and  Mr.  Vanstone  betook  himself 
on  the  spot  to  Mr.  Clare's  cottage. — You  no  doubt  observed  a  re- 


NO   NAME.  119 

markable  change  in  Mr.  Vanstone's  manner  on  that  day ;  and  you 
can  now  account  for  it  ?" 

Miss  Garth  bowed  her  head,  and  Mr.  Pendril  went  on. 

"  You  are  sufficiently  acquainted  with  Mr.  Clare's  contempt  for  all 
social  prejudices,"  he  continued,  "  to  anticipate  his  reception  of  the 
confession  which  his  neighbor  addressed  to  him.  Five  minutes 
after  the  interview  had  begun,  the  two  old  friends  were  as  easy  and 
unrestrained  together  as  usual.  In  the  course  of  conversation,  Mr. 
Vanstone  mentioned  the  pecuniary  arrangement  which  he  had  made 
for  the  benefit  of  his  daughter  and  of  her  future  husband — and,  in 
doing  so,  he  naturally  referred  to  his  will  here,  on  the  table  between 
us.  Mr.  Clare,  remembering  that  his  friend  had  been  married  in  the 
March  of  that  year,  at  once  asked  when  the  will  had  been  executed ; 
receiving  the  reply  that  it  had  been  made  five  years  since ;  and, 
thereupon,  astounded  Mr.  Vanstone  by  telling  him  bluntly  that  the 
document  was  waste  paper  in  the  eye  of  the  law.  Up  to  that  mo- 
ment he,  like  many  other  persons,  had  been  absolutely  ignorant 
that  a  man's  marriage  is,  legally  as  well  as  socially,  considered  to 
be  the  most  important  event  in  his  life ;  that  it  destroys  the  valid- 
ity of  any  will  which  he  may  have  made  as  a  single  man ;  and  that 
it  renders  absolutely  necessary  the  entire  re-assertion  of  his  testa- 
mentary intentions  in  the  character  of  a  husband.  The  statement 
of  this  plain  fact  appeared  to  overwhelm  Mr.  Vanstone.  Declaring 
that  his  friend  had  laid  him  under  an  obligation  which  he  should 
remember  to  his  dying  day,  he  at  once  left  the  cottage,  at  once  re- 
turned home,  and  wrote  me  this  letter." 

He  handed  the  letter  open  to  Miss  Garth.  In  tearless,  speechless 
grief,  she  read  these  words : 

"My  dear  Pendrdl, — Since  we  last  wrote  to  each  other  an  ex- 
traordinary change  has  taken  place  in  my  life.  About  a  week  after 
you  went  away,  I  received  news  from  America  which  told  me  that  I 
was  free.  Need  I  say  what  use  I  made  of  that  freedom  ?  Need  I 
say  that  the  mother  of  my  children  is  now  my  Wife  ? 

"  If  you  are  surprised  at  not  having  heard  from  me  the  moment 
you  got  back,  attribute  my  silence,  in  great  part — if  not  altogether 
■ — to  my  own  total  ignorance  of  the  legal  necessity  for  making  an- 
other will.  Not  half  an  hour  since,  I  was  enlightened  for  the  first 
time  (under  circumstances  which  I  will  mention  when  we  meet)  bv 
my  old  friend,  Mr.  Clare.  Family  anxieties  have  had  something  to 
do  with  my  silence  as  well.  My  wife's  confinement  is  close  at  hand ; 
and,  besides  this  serious  anxiety,  my  second  daughter  is  just  engaged 
to  be  married.  Until  I  saw  Mr.  Clare  to-day,  these  matters  so  filled 
my  mind  that  I  never  thought  of  writing  to  you  during  the  one 
short  month  which  is  all  that  has  passed  since  I  got  news  of  your 


120  NO   NAME. 

return.  Now  I  know  that  my  will  must  be  made  again,  I  write  di- 
stantly. For  God's  sake,  come  on  the  day  when  you  receive  this — 
come  and  relieve  me  from  the  dreadful  thought  that  my  two  darling 
girls  are  at  this  moment  unprovided  for.  If  any  thing  happened  to 
me,  and  if  my  desire  to  do  their  mother  justice,  ended  (through  my 
miserable  ignorance  of  the  law)  in  leaving  Norah  and  Magdalen 
disinherited,  I  should  not  rest  in  my  grave  !  Come,  at  any  cost,  to 
yours  ever,  A.  V." 

"  On  the  Saturday  morning,"  Mr.  Pendril  resumed,  "  those  lines 
reached  me.  I  instantly  set  aside  all  other  business,  and  drove  to 
the  railway.  At  the  London  terminus,  I  heard  the  first  news  of  the 
Friday's  accident ;  heard  it,  with  conflicting  accounts  of  the  num- 
bers and  names  of  the  passengers  killed.  At  Bristol,  they  were  bet- 
ter informed ;  and  the  dreadful  truth  about  Mr.  Vanstone  was  con- 
tinued. I  had  time  to  recover  myself  before  I  reached  your  station 
here,  and  found  Mr.  Clare's  son  waiting  for  me.  He  took  me  to  his 
father's  cottage ;  and  there,  without  losing  a  moment,  I  drew  out 
Mrs.  Vanstone's  will.  My  object  was  to  secure  the  only  provision 
for  her  daughters  which  it  was  now  possible  to  make.  Mr.  Van- 
stone  having  died  intestate,  a  third  of  his  fortune  would  go  to  his 
widow ;  and  the  rest  would  be  divided  among  his  next  of  kin.  As 
children  born  out  of  wedlock,  Mr.  Vanstone's  daughters,  under  the 
circumstances  of  their  father's  death,  had  no  more  claim  to  a  share 
"n  his  property  than  the  daughters  of  one  of  his  laborers  in  the  vil- 
lage. The  one  chance  left  was  that  their  mother  might  sufficiently 
recover  to  leave  her  third  share  to  them,  by  will,  in  the  event  of  her 
decease.  Now  you  know  why  I  wrote  to  you  to  ask  for  that  inter- 
view— why  I  waited  day  and  night,  in  the  hope  of  receiving  a  sum- 
mons to  the  house.  I  was  sincerely  sorry  to  send  back  such  an 
answer  to  your  note  of  inquiry  as  I  was  compelled  to  write.  But 
while  there  was  a  chance  of  the  preservation  of  Mrs.  Vanstone's  life, 
the  secret  of  the  marriage  was  hers,  not  mine;  and  every  considera- 
tion of  delicacy  forbade  me  to  disclose  it." 

"You  did  right,  sir,"  said  Miss  Garth;  "I  understand  your  mo- 
tives, and  respect  them." 

"My  last  attempt  to  provide  for  the  daughters,"  continued  Mr. 
Pendril,  "  was,  as  you  know,  rendered  unavailing  by  the  dangerous 
nature  of  Mrs.  Vanstone's  illness.  Her  death  left  the  infant  who 
survived  her  by  a  few  hours  (the  infant  born,  you  will  remember,  in 
lawful  wedlock)  possessed,  in  due  legal  course,  of  the  whole  of  Mr. 
Vanstone's  fortune.  On  the  child's  death — if  it  had  only  outlived 
the  mother  by  a  few  seconds,  instead  of  a  few  hours,  the  result 
would  have  been  the  same — the  next  of  kin  to  the  legitimate  off- 
spring took  the  money  ;  and  that  next  of  kin  is  the  infant's  paternal 


NO   NAME.  121 

uncle,  Michael  Vanstone.     The  whole  fortune  of  eighty  thousand 
pounds  has  virtually  passed  into  his  possession  already." 

"Are  there  no  other  relations?"  asked  Miss  Garth.     "Is  there  no 
hope  from  any  one  else  ?" 

"  There  are  no  other  relations  with  Michael  Vanstone's  claim," 
said  the  lawyer.  "  There  are  no  grandfathers  or  grandmothers  of 
the  dead  child  (on  the  side  of  either  of  the  parents)  now  alive.  It 
was  not  likely  there  should  be,  considering  the  ages  of  Mr.  and  Mrs. 
Vanstone  when  they  died.  But  it  is  a  misfortune  to  be  reasonably 
lamented  that  no  other  uncles  or  aunts  survive.  There  are  cousins 
alive ;  a  son  and  two  daughters  of  that  elder  sister  of  Mr.  Vanstone's, 
who  married  Archdeacon  Bartram,  and  who  died,  as  I  told  you, 
some  years  since.  But  their  interest  is  superseded  by  the  interest 
of  the  nearer  blood.  No,  Miss  Garth,  we  must  look  facts  as  they 
are  resolutely  in  the  face.  Mr.  Vanstone's  daughters  are  Nobody's 
Children ;  and  the  law  leaves  them  helpless  at  their  uncle's  mercy." 
"  A  cruel  law,  Mr.  Pendril — a  cruel  law  in  a  Christian  country." 
"  CrUel  as  it  is,  Miss  Garth,  it  stands  excused  by  a  shocking  pe- 
culiarity in  this  case.  I  am  far  from  defending  the  law  of  England 
as  it  effects  illegitimate  offspring.  On  the  contrary,  I  think  it  a 
disgrace  to  the  nation.  It  visits  the  sins  of  the  parents  on  the  chil- 
dren ;  it  encourages  vice  by  depriving  fathers  and  mothers  of  the 
strongest  of  all  motives  for  making  the  atonement  of  marriage ;  and 
it  claims  to  produce  these  two  abominable  results  in  the  names  of 
morality  and  religion.  But  it  has  no  extraordinary  oppression  to  an- 
swer for  in  the  case  of  these  unhappy  girls.  The  more  merciful  and 
Christian  law  of  other  countries,  which  allows  the  marriage  of  the 
parents  to  make  the  children  legitimate,  has  no  mercy  on  these  chil- 
dren. The  accident  of  their  father  having  been  married,  when  he 
first  met  with  their  mother,  has  made  them  the  outcasts  of  the  whole 
social  community:  it  has  placed  them  out  of  the  pale  of  the  Civil 
Law  of  Europe.  I  tell  you  the  hard  truth — it  is  useless  to  disguise 
it.  There  is  no  hope,  if  we  look  back  at  the  past :  there  may  I  »e 
hope,  if  we  look  on  to  the  future.  The  best  service  which  I  can 
now  render  you  is  to  shorten  the  period  of  your  suspense.  In  less 
than  an  hour  I  shall  be  on  my  way  back  to  London.  Immediately 
on  my  arrival,  I  will  ascertain  the  speediest  means  of  coinmunicating 
with  Mr.  Michael  Vanstone ;  and  will  let  you  know  the  result.  Sad 
as  the  position  of  the  two  sisters  now  is,  we  must  look  at  it  on  its 
best  side ;  we  must  not  lose  hope." 

"  Hope  ?"  repeated  Miss  Garth.     "  Hope  from  Michael  Vanstone  !" 
■"  Yes ;  hope  from  the  influence  on  him  of  time,  if  not  from  the  in- 
fluence of  mercy.     As  I  have  already  told  you,  he  is  now  an  old 
man ;  he  can  not,  in  the  course  of  nature,  expect  to  live  much  long- 
er.    If  he  looks  back  to  the  period  when  he  and  his  brother  were 


122  WO    NAME. 

first  at  variance,  he  must  look  back  through  thirty  years.  Surely, 
these  are  softening  influences  which  must  affect  any  man  ?  Surely, 
his  own  knowledge  of  the  shocking  circumstances  under  which  he 
has  become  possessed  of  this  money  will  plead  with  him,  if  nothing 
else  does  ?" 

"  I  will  try  to  think  as  you  do,  Mr.  Pendril — I  will  try  to  hope 
for  the  best.  Shall  we  be  left  long  in  suspense  before  the  decision 
reaches  us  ?" 

"  I  trust  not.  The  only  delay  on  my  side  will  be  caused  by  the 
necessity  of  discovering  the  place  of  Michael  Vanstone's  residence 
on  the  Continent.  I  think  I  have  the  means  of  meeting  this  diffi- 
culty successfully ;  and  the  moment  I  reach  London,  those  means 
shall  be  tried." 

He  took  up  his  hat ;  and  then  returned  to  the  table  on  which  the 
father's  last  letter,  and  the  father's  useless  will,  were  lying  side  by 
side.  After  a  moment's  consideration,  he  placed  them  both  in  Miss 
Garth's  hands. 

"It  may  help  you  in  breaking  the  hard  truth  to  the  orphan  sis- 
ters," he  said,  in  his  quiet,  self-repressed  way,  "  if  they  can  see  how 
their  father  refers  to  them  in  his  will — if  they  can  read  his  letter  to 
me,  the  last  he  ever  wrote.  Let  these  tokens  tell  them  that  the  one 
idea  of  their  father's  life  was  the  idea  of  making  atonement  to  his 
children.  '  They  may  think  bitterly  of  their  birth,'  he  said  to  me, 
at  the  time  when  I  drew  this  useless  will ;  '  but  they  shall  never 
think  bitterly  of  me.  I  will  cross  them  in  nothing :  they  shall  nev- 
er know  a  sorrow  that  I  can  spare  them,  or  a  want  which  I  will  not 
satisfy.'  He  made  me  put  those  words  in  his  will,  to  plead  for  him 
when  the  truth  which  he  had  concealed  from  his  children  in  his 
lifetime  was  revealed  to  them  after  his  death.  No  law  can  deprive 
his  daughters  of  the  legacy  of  his  repentance  and  his  love.  I  leave 
the  will  and  the  letter  to  help  you :  I  give  them  both  into  your 
care." 

He  saw  how  his  parting  kindness  touched  her,  and  thoughtfully 
hastened  the  farewell.  She  took  his  hand  in  both  her  own,  and 
murmured  a  few  broken  words  of  gratitude.  "  Trust  me  to  do  my 
best,"  he  said — and,  turning  away  with  a  merciful  abruptness,  left 
her.  In  the  broad,  cheerful  sunshine,  he  had  come  in  to  reveal  the 
fatal  truth.  In  the  broad,  cheerful  sunshine — that  truth  disclosed 
— he  went  out. 


NO    NAME.  123 


CHAPTER  XTV. 

It  was  nearly  an  hour  past  noon  when  Mr.  Pendril  left  the  house. 
Miss  Garth  sat  down  again  at  the  table  alone,  and  tried  to  face  the 
necessity  which  the  event  of  the  morning  now  forced  on  her. 

Her  mind  was  not  equal  to  the  effort.  She  tried  to  lessen  the 
strain  on  it — to  lose  the  sense  of  her  own  position — to  escape  from 
her  thoughts  for  a  few  minutes  only.  After  a  little,  she  opened  Mr. 
Vanstone's  letter,  and  mechanically  set  herself  to  read  it  through 
once  more. 

One  by  one,  the  last  words  of  the  dead  man  fastened  themselves 
more  and  more  firmly  on  her  attention.  The  unrelieved  solitude, 
\he  unbroken  silence,  helped  their  influence  on  her  mind,  and  open- 
ed it  to  those  very  impressions  of  past  and  present  which  she  was 
most  anxious  to  shun.  As  she  reached  the  melancholy  lines  which 
closed  the  letter,  she  found  herself— insensibly,  almost  unconscious- 
ly, at  first — tracing  the  fatal  chain  of  events,  link  by  link  backward, 
until  she  reached  its  beginning  in  the  contemplated  marriage  be- 
tween Magdalen  and  Francis  Clare. 

That  marriage  had  taken  Mr.  Vanstone  to  his  old  friend,  with  the 
confession  on  his  lips  which  would  otherwise  never  have  escaped 
them.  Thence  came  the  discovery  which  had  sent  him  home  to 
summon  the  lawyer  to  the  house.  That  summons,  again,  had  pro- 
duced the  inevitable  acceleration  of  the  Saturday's  journey  to  Fri- 
day ;  the  Friday  of  the  fatal  accident,  the  Friday  when  he  went  to 
his  death.  From  his  death  followed  the  second  bereavement  which 
had  made  the  house  desolate ;  the  helpless  position  of  the  daughters 
whose  prosperous  future  had  been  his  dearest  care ;  the  revelation 
of  the  secret  which  had  overwhelmed  her  that  morning ;  the  dis- 
closure, more  terrible  still,  which  she  now  stood  committed  to  make 
to  the  orphan  sisters.  For  the  first  time  she  saw  the  whole  se- 
quence of  events — saw  it  as  plainly  as  the  cloudless  blue  of  the  sky, 
and  the  green  glow  of  the  trees  in  the  sunlight  outside. 

How — when  could  she  tell  them  ?  Who  could  approach  them 
with  the  disclosure  of  their  own  illegitimacy,  before  their  father 
and  mother  had  been  dead  a  week?  Who  could  speak  the  dread- 
ful words,  while  the  first  tears  were  wet  on  their  cheeks,  while  the 
first  pang  of  separation  was  at  its  keenest  in  their  hearts,  while  the 
memory  of  the  funeral  was  not  a  day  old  yet  ?  Not  their  last  friend 
left ;  not  the  faithful  woman  whose  heart  bled  for  them.     No !  si- 


124  NO   NAME. 

lence  for  the  present  time,  at  all  risks — merciful  silencer;  for  many 
days  to  come ! 

She  left  the  room,  with  the  will  and  the  letter  in  her  hand — with 
the  natural,  human  pity  at  her  heart,  which  sealed  her  lips  and  shut 
her  eyes  resolutely  to  the  future.  In  the  hall  she  stopped  and  list- 
ened. Not  a  sound  was  audible.  She  softly  ascended  the  stairs, 
on  her  way  to  her  own  room,  and  passed  the  door  of  Norah's  bed- 
chamber. Voices  inside,  the  voices  of  the  two  sisters,  caught  her 
ear.  After  a  moment's  consideration,  she  checked  herself,  turned 
back,  and  quickly  descended  the  stairs  again.  Both  Norah  and 
Magdalen  knew  of  the  interview  between  Mr.  Pendril  and  herself; 
she  had  felt  it  her  duty  to  show  them  his  letter  making  the  ap- 
pointment. Could  she  excite  their  suspicion  by  locking  herself  up 
from  them  in  her  room,  as  soon  as  the  lawyer  had  left  the  house  ? 
Her  hand  trembled  on  the  banister ;  she  felt  that  her  face  might  be- 
tray her.  The  self-forgetful  fortitude,  which  had  never  failed  her 
until  that  day,  had  been  tried  once  too  often — had  been  tasked  be- 
yond its  powers  at  last. 

At  the  hall  door  she  reflected  for  a  moment  again,  and  went  into 
the  garden ;  directing  her  steps  to  a  rustic  bench  and  table  placed 
out  of  sight  of  the  house,  among  the  trees.  In  past  times,  she  had 
often  sat  there,  with  Mrs.  Vanstone  on  one  side,  with  Norah  on  the 
other,  with  Magdalen  and  the  dogs  romping  on  the  grass.  Alone 
she  sat  there  now — the  will  and  the  letter,  which  she  dared  not 
trust  out  of  her  own  possession,  laid  on  the  table — her  head  bowed 
over  them ;  her  face  hidden  in  her  hands.  Alone  she  sat  there,  and 
tried  to  rouse  her  sinking  courage. 

Doubts  thronged  on  her  of  the  dark  days  to  come ;  dread  beset 
her  of  the  hidden  danger  which  her  own  silence  toward  Norah  and 
Magdalen  might  store  up  in  the  near  future.  The  accident  of  a 
moment  might  suddenly  reveal  the  truth.  Mr.  Pendril  might  write, 
might  personally  address  himself  to  the  sisters,  in  the  natural  con- 
viction that  she  had  enlightened  them.  Complications  might  gath- 
er round  them  at  a  moment's  notice ;  unforeseen  necessities  might 
arise  for  immediately  leaving  the  house.  She  saw  all  these  perils— 
and  still  the  cruel  courage  to  face  the  worst,  and  speak,  was  as  far 
from  her  as  ever.  Ere  long,  the  thickening  conflict  of  her  thoughts 
forced  its  way  outward  for  relief,  in  words  and  actions.  She  raised 
her  head,  and  beat  her  hand  helplessly  on  the  table. 

"  God  help  me,  what  am  I  to  do  ?"  she  broke  out.  "  How  am  I 
to  tell  them  ?" 

"  There  is  no  need  to  tell  them,"  said  a  voice  behind  her.  "  They 
know  it  already." 

She  started  to  her  feet,  and  looked  round.  It  was  Magdalen  who 
stood  before  her — Magdalen  who  had  spoken  those  words. 


NO    NAME.  ]^5 

Yes,  there  was  the  graceful  figure,  in  its  mourning  garments, 
standing  out  tall  and  black  and  motionless  against  the  leafy  back- 
ground. There  was  Magdalen  herself,  with  a  changeless  stillness 
on  her  white  face ;  with  an  icy  resignation  in  her  steady  gray  eyes. 

"  We  know  it  already,"  she  repeated,  in  clear,  measured  tones. 
"  Mr.  Vanstone's  daughters  are  Nobody's  Children ;  and  the  law 
leaves  them  helpless  at  their  uncle's  mercy." 

So,  without  a  tear  on  her  cheeks,  without  a  faltering  tone  in  her 
voice,  she  repeated  the  lawyer's  own  words,  exactly  as  he  had 
spoken  them.  Miss  Garth  staggered  back  a  step,  and  caught  at 
the  bench  to  support  herself.  Her  head  swam ;  she  closed  her  eyes 
in  a  momentary  faintness.  When  they  opened  again,  Magdalen's 
arm  was  supporting  her,  Magdalen's  breath  fanned  her  cheek,  Mag- 
dalen's cold  lips  kissed  her.  She  drew  back  from  the  kiss ;  the 
touch  of  the  girl's  lips  thrilled  her  with  terror. 

As  soon  as  she  could  speak,  she  put  the  inevitable  question. 
"  You  heard  us,"  she  said.     "  Where  ?" 

"  Under  the  open  window." 

"All  the  time?" 

"  From  beginning  to  end." 

She  had  listened — this  girl  of  eighteen,  in  the  first  week  of  her 
orphanage,  had  listened  to  the  whole  terrible  revelation,  word  by 
word,  as  it  fell  from  the  lawyer's  lips ;  and  had  never  once  be- 
trayed herself!  From  first  to  last,  the  only  movements  which 
had  escaped  her,  had  been  movements  guarded  enough  and  slight 
enough  to  be  mistaken  for  the  passage  of  the  summer  breeze  through 
the  leaves ! 

"  Don't  try  to  speak  yet,"  she  said,  in  softer  and  gentler  tones. 
"  Don't  look  at  me  with  those  doubting  eyes.  What  wrong  have  I 
done  ?  When  Mr.  Pendril  wished  to  speak  to  you  about  Norah  and 
me,  his  letter  gave  us  our  choice  to  be  present  at  the  interview,  or 
to  keep  away.  If  my  elder  sister  decided  to  keep  away,  how  could 
I  come  ?  How  could  I  hear  my  own  story,  excej)t  as  I  did  ?  My 
listening  has  done  no  harm.  It  has  done  good — it  has  saved  you 
the  distress  of  speaking  to  us.  You  have  suffered  enough  for  us 
already ;  it  is  time  we  learned  to  suffer  for  ourselves.  I  have  learn- 
ed.    And  Norah  is  learning." 

"  Norah !" 

"  Yes.     I  have  done  all  I  could  to  spare  you.    I  have  told  Norah." 

She  had  told  Norah  !  Was  this  girl,  whose  courage  had  faced  the 
terrible  necessity  from  which  a  woman  old  enough  to  be  her  moth- 
er  had  recoiled,  the  girl  Miss  Garth  had  brought  up  ?  the  girl  whose 
nature  she  had  believed  to  be  as  well  known  to  her  as  her  own  ? 

"Magdalen!"  she  cried  out,  passionately,  "you  frighten  me  I" 

Magdalen  only  sighed,  and  turned  wearily  away. 


126  NO    NAME. 

"  Try  not  to  think  worse  of  me  than  I  deserve,"  she  said.  "  I 
can't  cry.     My  heart  is  numbed." 

She  moved  away  slowly  over  the  grass.  Miss  Garth  watched  the 
tall  black  figure  gliding  away  alone,  until  it  was  lost  among  the 
trees.  While  it  was  in  sight,  she  could  think  of  nothing  else.  The 
moment  it  was  gone,  she  thought  of  Norah.  For  the  first  time  in 
her  experience  of  the  sisters,  her  heart  led  her  instinctively  to  the 
elder  of  the  two. 

Norah  was  still  in  her  own  room.  She  was  sitting  on  the  couch 
by  the  window,  with  her  mother's  old  music-book — the  keepsake 
which  Mrs.  Vanstone  had  found  in  her  husband's  study,  on  the  day 
of  her  husband's  death — svjread  open  on  her  lap.  She  looked  up 
from  it  with  such  quiet  sorrow,  and  pointed  with  such  ready  kind- 
ness to  the  vacant  place  at  her  side,  that  Miss  Garth  doubted  for 
the  moment  whether  Magdalen  had  spoken  the  truth.  "  See,"  said 
Norah,  simply  turning  to  the  first  leaf  in  the  music-book  — "  my 
mother's  name  written  in  it,  and  some  verses  to  my  father  on  the 
next  page.  We  may  keep  this  for  ourselves,  if  we  keep  nothing  else." 
She  put  her  arm  round  Miss  Garth's  neck,  and  a  faint  tinge  of 
color  stole  over  her  cheeks.  "  I  see  anxious  thoughts  in  your  face," 
she  whispered.  "  Are  you  anxious  about  me  ?  Are  you  doubting 
whether  I  have  heard  it  ?  I  have  heard  the  whole  truth.  I  might 
have  felt  it  bitterly,  later ;  it  is  too  soon  to  feel  it  now.  You  have 
seen  Magdalen  ?  She  went  out  to  find  you — where  did  you  leave 
her  ?" 

"  In  the  garden.  I  couldn't  speak  to  her ;  I  couldn't  look  at  her, 
Magdalen  has  frightened  me." 

Norah  rose  hurriedly ;  rose,  startled  and  distressed  by  Miss  Garth's 
reply. 

"  Don't  think  ill  of  Magdalen,"  she  said.  "  Magdalen  suffers  in 
secret  more  than  I  do.  Try  not  to  grieve  over  what  you  have  heard 
about  us  this  morning.  Does  it  matter  who  we  are,  or  what  we 
keep  or  lose  ?  What  loss  is  there  for  us,  after  the  loss  of  our  father 
and  mother  ?  Oh,  Miss  Garth,  there  is  the  only  bitterness !  What 
did  we  remember  of  them  when  we  laid  them  in  the  grave  yester- 
day ?  Nothing  but  the  love  they  gave  us — the  love  we  must  never 
hope  for  again.  What  else  can  we  remember  to-day  ?  What  change 
can  the  world,  and  the  world's  cruel  laws,  make  in  our  memory  of 
the  kindest  father,  the  kindest  mother,  that  children  ever  had !" 
She  stopped  :  strugglea  with  her  rising  grief;  and  quietly,  resolute- 
ly, kept  it  down.  "  Will  you  wait  here  ?"  she  said,  "  while  I  go  and 
bring  Magdalen  back  ?  Magdalen  was  always  your  favorite :  I  want 
her  to  be  your  favorite  still."  She  laid  the  music-book  gently  on 
Miss  Garth's  lap— and  left  the  room. 

"  Magdalen  was  always  your  favorite." 


NO    NAME.  127 

Tenderly  as  they  had  been  spoken,  those  words  fell  reproachfully 
on  Miss  Garth's  ear.  For  the  first  time  in  the  long  companionship 
of  her  pupils  and  herself,  a  doubt  whether  she,  and  all  those  about 
her,  had  not  been  fatally  mistaken  in  their  relative  estimate  of  the 
sisters,  now  forced  itself  on  her  mind. 

She  had  studied  the  natures  of  her  two  pupils  in  the  daily  inti- 
macy of  twelve  years.  Those  natures,  which  she  believed  herself  to 
have  sounded  through  all  their  depths,  had  been  suddenly' tried  in 
the  sharp  ordeal  of  affliction.  How  had  they  come  out  from  the 
test  ?  As  her  previous  experience  had  prepared  her  to  see  them  ? 
No  :  in  flat  contradiction  to  it. 

What  did  such  a  result  as  this  imply  ? 

Thoughts  came  to  her,  as  she  asked  herself  that  question,  which 
have  startled  and  saddened  us  all. 

Does  there  exist  in  every  human  being,  beneath  that  outward  and 
visible  character  which  is  shaped  into  form  by  the  social  influences 
surrounding  us,  an  inward,  invisible  disposition,  which  is  part  of 
ourselves ;  which  education  may  indirectly  modify,  but  can  never 
hope  to  change  ?  Is  the  philosophy  which  denies  this,  and  asserts 
that  we  are  born  with  dispositions  like  blank  sheets  of  paper,  a 
philosophy  which  has  failed  to  remark  that  we  are  not  born  with 
blank  faces — a  philosophy  which  has  never  compared  together  two 
infants  of  a  few  days  old,  and  has  never  observed  that  those  infants 
are  not  born  with  blank  tempers  for  mothers  and  nurses  to  fill  up  at 
will  ?  Are  there,  infinitely  varying  with  each  individual,  inbred 
forces  of  Good  and  Evil  in  all  of  us,  deep  down  below  the  reach  of 
mortal  encouragement  and  mortal  repression — hidden  Good  and 
hidden  Evil,  both  alike  at  the  mercy  of  the  liberating  opportunity 
and  the  sufficient  temptation  ?  Within  these  earthly  limits,  is  earth- 
ly Circumstance  ever  the  key ;  and  can  no  human  vigilance  warn  us 
beforehand  of  the  forces  imprisoned  in  ourselves  which  that  key 
may  unlock  ? 

For  the  first  time,  thoughts  such  as  these  rose  darkly — as  shadowy 
and  terrible  possibilities — in  Miss  Garth's  mind.  For  the  first  time, 
she  associated  those  possibilities  with  the  past  conduct  and  charac- 
ters, with  the  future  lives  and  fortunes  of  the  orphan  sisters. 

Searching,  as  in  a  glass  darkly,  into  the  two  natures,  she  felt  her 
way,  doubt  by  doubt,  from  one  possible  truth  to  another.  It  might 
be,  that  the  upper  surface  of  their  characters  was  all  that  she  had, 
thus  far,  plainly  seen  in  Norah  and  Magdalen.  It  might  be,  that 
the  unalluring  secrecy  and  reserve  of  one  sister,  the  all-attractive 
openness  and  high  spirits  of  the  other,  were  more  or  less  referable, 
in  each  case,  to  those  physical  causes  which  work  toward  the  pro- 
duction of  moral  results.  It  might  be,  that  under  the  surface  so 
formed — a  surface  which  there  had  been  nothing',  hitherto,  in  the 


128  NO    NAME. 

happy,  prosperous,  uneventful  lives  of  the  sisters  to  disturb — forces 
of  iuborn  and  inbred  disposition  bad  remained  concealed,  which  the 
shock  of  the  first  serious  calamity  in  their  lives  had  now  thrown  up 
into  view.  Was  this  so  ?  Was  the  promise  of  the  future  shining 
with  prophetic  light  through  the  surface-shadow  of  Norah's  reserve, 
and  darkening  with  prophetic  gloom,  under  the  surface-glitter  of 
Magdalen's  bright  spirits  ?  If  the  life  of  the  elder  sister  was  des- 
tined henceforth  to  be  the  ripening  ground  of  the  undeveloped 
Good  that  was  in  her — was  the  life  of  the  younger  doomed  to  be  the 
battle-field  of  mortal  conflict  with  the  roused  forces  of  Evil  in  herself? 
On  tbe  brink  of  that  terrible  conclusion,  Miss  Garth  shrank  back 
in  dismay.  Her  heart  was  the  heart  of  a  true  woman.  It  accept- 
ed the  conviction  which  raised  Norah  higher  in  her  love  :  it  rejected 
the  doubt  which  threatened  to  place  Magdalen  lower.  She  rose 
and  paced  the  room  impatiently ;  she  recoiled  with  an  angry  sud- 
denness from  the  whole  train  of  thought  in  which  her  mind  had 
been  engaged  but  the  moment  before.  What  if  there  were  danger- 
ous elements  in  the  strength  of  Magdalen's  character — was  it  not 
her  duty  to  help  the  girl  against  herself  ?  How  had  she  performed 
that  duty  ?  She  had  let  herself  be  governed  by  first  fears  and  first 
impressions ;  she  had  never  waited  to  consider  whether  Magdalen's 
openly  acknowledged  action  of  that  morning  might  not  imply  a 
self-sacrificing  fortitude,  which  promised,  in  after-life,  the  noblest 
and  the  most  enduring  results.  She  had  let  Norah  go  and  speak 
those  words  of  tender  remonstrance,  which  she  should  .first  have 
spoken  herself.  "Oh!"  she  thought  bitterly,  "  how  long  I  have 
lived  in  the  world,  and  how  little  I  have  known  of  my  own  weak- 
ness and  -wickedness  until  to-day!" 

The  door  of  the  room  opened.  Norah  came  in,  as  she  had  gone 
out,  alone. 

"  Do  you  remember  leaving  any  thing  on  the  little  table  by  the 
garden-seat  ?"  she  asked,  quietly. 

Before  Miss  Garth  could  answer  the  question,  she  held  out  her 
father's  will  and  her  father's  letter. 

"  Magdalen  came  back  after  you  went  away,"  she  said,  "  and  found 
these  last  relics.  She  heard  Mr.  Pendril  say  they  were  her  legacy 
and  mine.  When  I  went  into  the  garden,  she  was  reading  the  letter. 
There  was  no  need  for  me  to  speak  to  her;  our  father  had  spoken 
to  her  from  his  grave.     See  how  she  has  listened  to  him  "' 

She  pointed  to  the  letter.  The  traces  of  heavy  tear-drops  lay  thick 
over  the  last  lines  of  the  dead  man's  writing. 

"  Her  tears,"  said  Norah,  softly. 

Miss  Garth's  head  drooped  low,  over  the  mute  revelation  of  Mag- 
dalen's return  to  her  better  self. 


NO    NAME.  129 

"  Oh,  never  doubt  her  again !"  pleaded  Norah.  "  We  are  alone 
now — we  have  our  hard  way  through  the  world  to  walk  on  as  pa- 
tiently as  we  can.  If  Magdalen  ever  falters  and  turns  back,  help 
her  for  the  love  of  old  times  ;  help  her  against  herself." 

"With  all  my  heart  and  strength — as  God  shall  judge  me,  with 
the  devotion  of  my  whole  life  !"  In  those  fervent  words  Miss  Garth 
answered.  She  took  the  hand  which  Norah  held  out  to  her,  and 
put  it,  in  sorrow  and  humility,  to  her  lips.  "  Oh,  my  love,  forgive 
me!  I  have  been  miserably  blind  —  I  have  never  valued  you  as  I 
ought !" 

Norah  gently  checked  her  before  she  could  say  more;  gently 
whispered,  u  Come  with  me  into  the  garden— come,  and  help  Mag^ 
dalen  to  look  patiently  to  the  future." 

The  future  !  Who  could  see  the  faintest  glimmer  of  it  ?  Who 
could  see  any  thing  but  the  ill-omened  figure  of  Michael  Vanstone, 
posted  darkly  on  the  verge  of  the  present  time — and  closing  all  the 
prospect  that  lay  beyond  him  ? 


CHAPTER  XV. 

On  the  next  morning  but  one,  news  was  received  from  Mr.  Pendril. 
The  place  of  Michael  Vanstone's  residence  on  the  Continent  had 
been  discovered.  He  was  living  at  Zurich;  and  a  letter  had  been 
dispatched  to  him,  at  that  place,  on  the  day  when  the  information 
was  obtained.  In  the  course  of  the  coming  week  an  answer  might 
be  expected,  and  the  purport  of  it  should  be  communicated  forth- 
with to  the  ladies  at  Combe-Raven. 

Short  as  it  was,  the  interval  of  delay  passed  wearily.  Ten  days 
elapsed  before  the  expected  answer  was  received  ;  and  when  it  came 
at  last,  it  proved  to  be,  strictly  speaking,  no  answer  at  all.  Mr.  Pen- 
dril had  been  merely  referred  to  an  agent  in  London  who  was  in 
possession  of  Michael  Vanstone's  instructions.  Certain  difficulties 
had  been  discovered  in  connection  with  those  instructions,  which 
had  produced  the  necessity  of  once  more  writing  to  Zurich.  And 
there  "the  negotiations"  rested  again  for  the  present. 

A  second  paragraph  in  Mr.  Pendril's  letter  contained  another  piece 
of  intelligence  entirely  new.  Mr.  Michael  Vanstone's  son  (and  only 
child),  Mr.  Noel  Vanstone,  had  recently  arrived  in  London,  and  was 
then  staying  in  lodgings  occupied  by  his  cousin,  Mr.  George  Bar- 
tram.  Professional  considerations  had  induced  Mr.  Pendril  to  pay 
a  visit  to  the  lodgings.  He  had  been  very  kindly  received  by  Mr. 
Bartram ;  but  had  been  informed  by  that  gentleman  that  his  cousin 
was  not  then  in  a  condition  to  receive  visitors.     Mr.  Noel  Vanstone 


130  NO    NAME. 

had  been  suffering,  for  some  years  past,  from  a  wearing  and  obsti- 
nate malady ;  he  had  come  to  England  expressly  to  obtain  the  best 
medical  advice,  and  he  still  felt  the  fatigue  of  the  journey  so  se- 
verely as  to  be  confined  to  his  bed.  Under  these  circumstances;., 
Mr.  Pendril  had  no  alternative  but  to  take  his  leave.  An  intervieAV 
with  Mr.  Noel  Vanstone  might  have  cleared  up  some  of  the  difficul- 
ties in  connection  with  his  father's  instructions.  As  events  haif 
turned  out,  there  was  no  help  for  it  but  to  wait  for  a  few  days  more 

The  days  passed,  the  empty  days  of  solitude  and  suspense.  At 
last,  a  third  letter  from  the  lawyer  announced  the  long-delayed  con- 
clusion of  the  correspondence.  The  final  answer  had  been  received 
from  Ziirich,  and  Mr.  Pendril  would  personally  communicate  it  at 
Combe-Raven  on  the  afternoon  of  the  next  day. 

That  next  day  was  Wednesday,  the  twelfth  of  August.  The 
weather  had  changed  in  the  night;  and  the  sun  rose  waterj 
through  mist  and  cloud.  By  noon  the  sky  was  overcast  at  all 
points;  the  temperature  was  sensibly  colder;  and  the  rain  poured 
down,  straight  and  soft  and  steady,  on  the  thirsty  earth.  Toward 
three  o'clock,  Miss  Garth  and  Norah  entered  the  morning-room,  to 
await  Mr.  Pendril's  arrival.  They  were  joined  shortly  afterward  bj 
Magdalen.  In  half  an  hour  more  the  familiar  fall  of  the  iron  latclr 
in  the  socket  reached  their  ears  from  the  fence  beyond  the  shrubbery 
Mr.  Pendril  and  Mr.  Clare  advanced  into  view  along  the  garden 
path,  walking  arm  in  arm  through  the  rain,  sheltered  by  the  same 
umbrella.  The  lawyer  bowed  as  they  passed  the  windows;  Mr, 
Clare  walked  straight  on,  deep  in  his  own  thoughts  —  noticing 
nothing. 

After  a  delay  which  seemed  interminable ;  after  a  weary  scraping 
of  wet  feet  on  the  hall  mat ;  after  a  mysterious,  muttered  interchange 
of  question  and  answer  outside  the  door,  the  two  came  in — Mr.  Claw 
leading  the  way.  The  old  man  walked  straight  up  to  the  table, 
withoiit  any  preliminary  greeting,  and  looked  across  it  at  the  three 
women,  with  a  stern  pity  for  them,  in  his  rugged,  wrinkled  face. 

"  Bad  news,"  he  said.  "  I  am  an  enemy  to  all  unnecessary  sus- 
pense. Plainness  is  kindness  in  such  a  case  as  this.  I  mean  to  be 
kind — and  I  tell  you  plainly — bad  news." 

Mr.  Pendril  followed  him.  He  shook  hands,  in  silence,  with  Miss 
Garth  and  the  two  sisters,  and  took  a  seat  near  them.  Mr.  Clare 
placed  himself  apart  on  a  chair  by  the  window.  The  gray  rainy 
light  fell  soft  and  sad  on  the  faces  of  Norah  and  Magdalen,  who 
sat  together  opposite  to  him.  Miss  Garth  had  placed  herself  a  lit- 
tle behind  them,  in  partial  shadow ;  and  the  lawyer's  quiet  face  was 
seen  in  profile,  close  beside  her.  So  the  four  occupants  of  the  room 
appeared  to  Mr.  Clare,  as  he  sat  apart  in  his  corner;  his  long  claw- 
like fingers  interlaced  on  his  knee ;  his  dark  vigilant  eyes  fixed 


NO    NAME.  131 

seairhingly  now  on  one  face,  now  on  another.  The  dripping  rustle 
of  the  rain  among  the  leaves,  and  the  clear,  ceaseless  tick  of  the 
clock  on  the  mantel-piece,  made  the  minute  of  silence  which  fol- 
lowed the  settling  of  the  persons  present  in  their  places  indescriba- 
bly oppressive.    It  was  a  relief  to  every  one  when  Mr.  Pendril  spoke. 

"  Mr.  Clare  has  told  you  already,"  he  began,  "  that  I  am  the  bearer 
of  bad  news.  I  am  grieved  to  say,  Miss  Garth,  that  your  doubts, 
when  I  last  saw  you,  were  better  founded  than  my  hopes.  What 
that  heartless  elder  brother  was  in  his  youth,  he  is  still  in  his  old 
age.  In  all  my  unhappy  experience  of  the  worst  side  of  human  na- 
ture, I  have  never  met  with  a  man  so  utterly  dead  to  every  consid- 
eration of  mercy  as  Michael  Vanstone." 

"Do  you  mean  that  he  takes  the  whole  of  his  brother's  fortune, 
and  makes  no  provision  whatever  for  his  brother's  children  ?"  asked 
Miss  Garth. 

"  He  offers  a  sum  of  money  for  present  emergencies,"  replied  Mr. 
Pendril,  "  so  meanly  and  disgracefully  insufficient,  that  I  am  ashamed 
to  mention  it." 

"  And  nothing  for  the  future  ?" 

"  Absolutely  nothing." 

As  that  answer  was  given,  the  same  thought  passed,  at  the  same 
moment,  through  Miss  Garth's  mind  and  through  Norah's.  The 
decision,  which  deprived  both  the  sisters  alike  of  the  resources  of 
fortune,  did  not  end  there  for  the  younger  of  the  two.  Michael 
Vanstone's  merciless  resolution  had  virtually  pronounced  the  sen- 
tence which  dismissed  Frank  to  China,  and  which  destroyed  all 
present  hope  of  Magdalen's  marriage.  As  the  words  passed  the 
lawyer's  lips,  Miss  Garth  and  Norah  looked  at  Magdalen  anxiously. 
Her  face  turned  a  shade  paler— but  not  a  feature  of  it  moved ;  not 
a  word  escaped  her.  Norah,  who  held  her  sister's  hand  in  her  own, 
felt  it  tremble  for  a  moment,  and  then  turn  cold — and  that  was  all. 

"  Let  me  mention  plainly  what  I  have  done,"  resumed  Mr.  Pen- 
dril ;  "  I  am  very  desirous  you  should  not  think  that  I  have  left  any 
effort  untried.  When  I  wrote  to  Michael  Vanstone,  in  the  first  in- 
stance, I  did  not  confine  myself  to  the  usual  formal  statement.  I 
put  before  him,  plainly  and  earnestly,  every  one  of  the  circumstances 
under  which  he  has  become  possessed  of  his  brother's  fortune. 
When  I  received  the  answer,  referring  me  to  his  written  instruc- 
tions to  his  lawyer  in  London — and  when  a  copy  of  those  instruc- 
tions was  placed  in  my  hands — I  positively  declined,  on  becoming 
acquainted  with  them,  to  receive  the  writer's  decision  as  final.  I 
induced  the  solicitor,  on  the  other  side,  to  accord  us  a  further  term 
of  delay ;  I  attempted  to  see  Mr.  Noel  Vanstone  in  London  for  the 
purpose  of  obtaining  his  intercession ;  and,  failing  in  that,  I  myself 
wrote  to  his  father  for  the  second  time.     The  answer  referred  me.  in 


132  NO    NAME. 

insolently  curt  terms,  to  the  instructions  already  communicated  ;  de- 
clared those  instructions  to  be  final ;  and  declined  any  further  cor* 
respondence  with  me.  There  is  the  beginning  and  the  end  of  the 
negotiation.  If  I  have  overlooked  any  means  of  touching  this  heart- 
less man — tell  me,  and  those  means  shall  be  tried." 

He  looked  at  Norah.  She  pressed  her  sister's  hand  encouraging- 
ly, and  answered  for  both  of  them. 

"  I  speak  for  my  sister,  as  well  as  for  myself,"  she  said,  with  her 
color  a  little  heightened,  with  her  natural  gentleness  of  manner  just 
touched  by  a  quiet,  uncomplaining  sadness.  "  You  have  done  all 
that  could  be  done,  Mr.  Pendril.  We  have  tried  to  restrain  our- 
selves from  hoping  too  confidently ;  and  we  are  deeply  grateful  for 
your  kindness,  at  a  time  when  kindness  is  sorely  needed  by  both 
of  us." 

Magdalen's  hand  returned  the  pressure  of  her  sister's — withdrew 
itself — trifled  for  a  moment  impatiently  with  the  arrangement  of  her 
dress — then  suddenly  moved  the  chair  closer  to  the  table.  Leaning 
one  arm  on  it  (with  the  hand  fast  clenched),  she  looked  across  at 
Mr.  Pendril.  Her  face,  always  remarkable  for  its  want  of  color,  was 
now  startling  to  contemplate,  in  its  blank,  bloodless  pallor.  But  the 
light  in  her  large  gray  eyes  was  bright  and  steady  as  ever ;  and  her 
voice,  though  low  in  tone,  was  clear  and  resolute  in  accent  as  she 
addressed  the  lawyer  in  these  terms : 

"  I  understood  you  to  say,  Mr.  Pendril,  that  my  father's  brother 
had  sent  his  written  orders  to  London,  and  that  you  had  a  copy. 
Have  you  preserved  it  ?" 

"  Certainly." 

"  Have  you  got  it  about  you  ?" 

"  I  have." 

"  May  I  see  it  ?" 

Mr.  Pendril  hesitated,  and  looked  uneasily  from  Magdalen  to 
Miss  Garth,  and  from  Miss  Garth  back  again  to  Magdalen. 

"  Pray  oblige  me  by  not  pressing  your  request,"  he  said.  "  It  is 
surely  enough  that  you  know  the  result  of  the  instructions.  Why 
should  you  agitate  yourself  to  no  purpose  by  reading  them  ?  They 
are  expressed  so  cruelly ;  they  show  such  abominable  want  of  feel- 
ing, that  I  really  can  not  prevail  upon  myself  to  let  you  see  them." 

"  I  am  sensible  of  your  kindness,  Mr.  Pendril,  in  wishing  to  spare 
me  pain.  But  I  can  bear  pain  ;  I  promise  to  distress  nobody.  Will 
you  excuse  me  if  I  repeat  my  request  ?" 

She  held  out  her  hand — the  soft,  white,  virgin  hand  that  had 
touched  nothing  to  soil  it  or  harden  it  yet. 

"  Oh,  Magdalen,  think  again  !"  said  Norah. 

"  You  distress  Mr.  Pendril,"  added  Miss  Garth ;  "  you  distress  us 
all." 


NO   NAME.  135 

"  There  can  be  no  end  gained,''  pleaded  the  lawyer — "  forgive  meit, 
for  saying  so — there  ean  really  be  no  useful  end  gained  by  my  show- 
ing you  the  instructions." 

("  Fools  !"  said  Mr.  Clare  to  himself.  "  Have  they  no  eyes  to  see 
that  she  means  to  have  her  own  way  ?") 

"  Something  tells  me  there  is  an  end  to  be  gained,"  persisted 
Magdalen.  "  This  decision  is  a  very  serious  one.  It  is  more  serious 
to  me — "  She  looked  round  at  Mr.  Clare,  who  sat  closely  watching 
her,  and  instantly  looked  back  again,  with  the  first  outward  be- 
trayal of  emotion  which  had  escaped  her  yet.  "  It  is  even  more 
serious  to  me,"  she  resumed,  "  for  private  reasons — than  it  is  to  my 
sister.  I  know  nothing  yet  but  that  our  father's  brother  has  taken  . 
our  fortunes  from  us.  He  must  have  some  motives  of  his  own  for  such 
conduct  as  that.  It  is  not  fair  to  him,  or  fair  to  us,  to  keep  those 
motives  concealed.  He  has  deliberately  robbed  Norah,  and  robbed 
me  ;  and  I  think  we  have  a  right,  if  we  wish  it,  to  know  why  ?" 

"  I  don't  wish  it,"  said  Norah. 

"  I  do,"  said  Magdalen ;  and  once  more  she  held  out  her  hand. 

At  this  point  Mr.  Clare  roused  himself,  and  interfered  for  the  first 
time. 

"  You  have  relieved  your  conscience,"  he  said,  addressing  the 
lawyer.  "  Give  her  the  right  she  claims.  It  is  her  right — if  she 
will  have  it." 

Mr.  Pendril  quietly  took  the  written  instructions  from  his  pocket. 
"  I  have  warned  you,"  he  said — and  handed  the  papers  across  the 
table,  without  another  word.  One  of  the  pages  of  writing  was  fold- 
ed down  at  the  corner ;  and  at  that  folded  page  the  manuscript 
opened,  when  Magdalen  first  turned  the  leaves.  "  Is  this  the  place 
which  refers  to  my  sister  and  myself?"  she  inquired.  Mr.  Pendril 
bowed ;  and  Magdalen  smoothed  out  the  manuscript  before  her  on 
the  table. 

"  Will  you  decide,  Norah  ?"  she  asked,  turning  to  her  sister. 
"  Shall  I  read  this  aloud,  or  shall  I  read  it  to  myself?" 

"  To  yourself,"  said  Miss  Garth ;  answering  for  Norah,  who  looked 
at  her  in  mute  perplexity  and  distress. 

"  It  shall  be  as  you  wish,"  said  Magdalen.  With  that  reply,  she 
turned  again  to  the  manuscript,  and  read  these  lines : 

" You  are  now  in  possession  of  my  wishes  in  relation  to 

the  property  in  money,  and  to  the  sale  of  the  furniture,  carriages, 
horses,  and  so  forth.  The  last  point  left,  on  which  it  is  necessary 
for  me  to  instruct  you,  refers  to  the  persons  inhabiting  the  house, 
and  to  certain  preposterous  claims  on  their  behalf,  set  up  by  a  solic- 
itor named  Pendril ;  who  has,  no  doubt,  interested  reasons  of  his 
own  for  making  application  to  me. 


132 


NO    NAME. 


"  I  understand  that  my  late  brother  has  left  two  illegitimate 
children ;  both  of  them  young  women,  who  are  of  an  age  to  earn 
their  own  livelihood.  Various  considerations,  all  equally  irregular, 
have  been  urged  in  respect  to  these  persons  by  the  solicitor  repre- 
senting them.  Be  so  good  as  to  tell  him  that  neither  you  nor  I  have 
any  thing  to  do  with  questions  of  mere  sentiment ;  and  then  state 
plainly,  for  his  better  information,  what  the  motives  are  which  regu- 
late my  conduct,  and  what  the  provision  is  which  I  feel  myself  jus 
tified  in  making  for  the  two  young  women.  Your  instructions  on 
both  these  points  you  will  find  detailed  in  the  next  paragraph. 

"I  wish  the  persons  concerned  to  know,  once  for  all,  how  I  re- 
gard the  circumstances  which  have  placed  my  late  brother's  property 
at  my  disposal.  Let  them  understand  that  I  consider  those  circum- 
stances to  be  a  Providential  interposition,  which  has  restored  to 
me  the  inheritance  that  ought  always  to  have  been  mine.  I  receive 
the  money,  not  only  as  my  right,  but  also  as  a  proper  compensation 
for  the  injustice  which  I  suffered  from  my  father,  and  a  proper  pen- 
alty paid  by  my  younger  brother  for  the  vile  intrigue  by  which  he 
succeeded  in  disinheriting  me.  His  conduct,  when  a  young  man, 
was  uniformly  discreditable  in  all  the  relations  of  life ;  and  what  it 
then  was,  it  continued  to  be  (on  the  showing  of  his  own  legal  repre- 
sentative) after  the  time  when  I  ceased  to  hold  any  communication 
with  him.  He  appears  to  have  systematically  imposed'  a  woman  on 
Society  as  his  wife  who  was  not  his  wife,  and  to  have  completed 
the  outrage  on  morality  by  afterward  marrying  her.  Such  conduct 
as  this  has  called  down  a  Judgment  on  himself  and  his  children. 
I  will  not  invite  retribution  on  my  own  head,  by  assisting  those 
children  to  continue  the  imposition  which  their  parents  practiced, 
and  by  helping  them  to  take  a  place  in  the  world  to  which  they 
are  not  entitled.  Let  them,  as  becomes  their  birth,  gain  their  bread 
in  situations.  If  they  show  themselves  disposed  to  accept  their 
proper  position,  I  will  assist  them  to  start  virtuously  in  life,  by  a 
present  of  one  hundred  pounds  each.  This  sum  I  authorize  you  to 
pay  them,  on  their  personal  application,  with  the  necessary  acknowl- 
edgment of  receipt;  and  on  the  express  understanding  that  the 
transaction,  so  completed,  is  to  be  the  beginning  and  the  end  of  my 
connection  with  them.  The  arrangements  under  which  they  quit  the 
house  I  leave  to  your  discretion ;  and  I  have  only  to  add  that  my 
decision  on  this  matter,  as  on  all  other  matters,  is  positive  and  final." 

Line  by  line — without  once  looking  up  from  the  pages  before  her 
— Magdalen  read  those  atrocious  sentences  through,  from  beginning 
to  end.  The  other  persons  assembled  in  the  room,  all  eagerly  look- 
ing at  her  together,  saw  the  dress  rising  and  falling  faster  and  faster 
over  her  bosom — saw  the  hand  in  which  she  lightly  held  the  manu- 


NO   NAME.  135 

script  at  the  outset  close  unconsciously  on  the  paper,  and  crush  it, 
as  she  advanced  nearer  and  nearer  to  the  end — but  detected  no  oth- 
er outward  signs  of  what  was  passing  within  her.  As  soon  as  she 
had  done,  she  silently  pushed  the  manuscript  away,  and  put  her 
hands  on  a  sudden  over  her  face.  When  she  withdrew  them,  all 
the  four  persons  in  the  room  noticed  a  change  in  her.  Something 
in  her  expression  had  altered,  subtly  and  silently ;  something  which 
made  the  familiar  features  suddenly  look  strange,  even  to  her  sister 
and  Miss  Garth ;  something,  through  all  after  years,  never  to  be  for- 
gotten in  connection  with  that  day — and  never  to  be  described. 

The  first  words  she  spoke  were  addressed  to  Mr.  Pendril. 

"May  I  ask  one  more  favor,"  she  said,  "  before  you  enter  on  your 
business  arrangements  ?" 

Mr.  Pendril  replied  ceremoniously  by  a  gesture  of  assent.  Mag- 
dalen's resolution  to  possess  herself  of  the  Instructions  did  not  ap- 
pear to  have  produced  a  favorable  impression  on  the  lawyer's  mind. 

"  You  mentioned  what  you  were  so  kind  as  to  do,  in  our  inter- 
ests, when  you  first  wrote  to  Mr.  Michael  Vanstone,"  she  continued. 
"  You  said  you  had  told  him  all  the  circumstances.  I  want — if  you 
will  allow  me — to  be  made  quite  sure  of  what  he  really  knew  about 
us  when  he  sent  these  orders  to  his  lawyer.  Did  he  know  that  my 
father  had  made  a  will,  and  that  he  had  left  our  fortunes  to  my  sis- 
ter and  myself?" 

"  He  did  know  it,"  said  Mr.  Pendril. 

"  Did  you  tell  him  how  it  happened  that  we  are  left  in  this  help- 
less position  ?" 

"  I  told  him  that  your  father  was  entirely  unaware,  when  he  mar- 
ried, of  the  necessity  for  making  another  will." 

"And  that  another  will  would  have  been  made,  after  he  saw  Mr. 
Clare,  but  for  the  dreadful  misfortune  of  his  death  ?" 

"  He  knew  that  also." 

"  Did  he  know  that  my  father's  untiring  goodness  and  kindness 
to  both  of  us — " 

Her  voice  faltered  for  the  first  time :  she  sighed,  and  put  her 
hand  to  her  head  wearily.  Norah  spoke  entreatingly  to  her ;  Miss 
Garth  spoke  entreatingly  to  her ;  Mr.  Clare  sat  silent,  watching  her 
more  and  more  earnestly.  She  answered  her  sister's  remonstrance 
with  a  faint  smile.  "  I  will  keep  my  promise,"  she  said ;  "  I  will 
distress  nobody."  With  that  reply,  she  turned  again  to  Mr.  Pen- 
dril ;  and  steadily  reiterated  the  question — but  in  another  form  of 
words. 

"  Did  Mr.  Michael  Vanstone  know  that  my  father's  great  anxiety 
was  to  make  sure  of  providing  for  my  sister  and  myself  ?" 

"  He  knew  it  in  your  father's  own  words.  I  sent  him  an  extract 
from  your  father's  last  letter  to  me." 


136  NO   NAME. 

"  The  letter  which  asked  you  to  come  for  God's  sake,  and  relieve 
him  from  the  dreadful  thought  that  his  daughters  were  unprovided 
for  ?  The  letter  which  said  he  should  not  rest  in  his  grave  if  he 
left  us  disinherited  ?" 

"  That  letter  and  those  words." 

She  paused,  still  keeping  her  eyes  steadily  fixed  on  the  lawyer's 
face. 

"  I  want  to  fasten  it  all  in  my  mind,"  she  said,  "  before  I  go  on. 
Mr.  Michael  Vanstone  knew  of  the  first  will ;  he  knew  what  pre- 
vented the  making  of  the  second  will ;  he  knew  of  the  letter,  and 
he  read  the  words.  What  did  he  know  of  besides  ?  Did  you  tell 
him  of  my  mother's  last  illness  ?  Did  you  say  that  her  share  in  the 
money  would  have  been  left  to  us,  if  she  could  have  lifted  her  dying 
hand  in  your  presence  ?  Did  you  try  to  make  him  ashamed  of  the 
cruel  law  which  calls  girls  in  our  situation  Nobody's  Children,  and 
which  allows  him  to  use  us  as  he  is  using  us  now  ?" 

"  I  put  all  those  considerations  to  him.  I  left  none  of  them  doubt- 
ful ;  I  left  none  of  them  out." 

She  slowly  reached  her  hand  to  the  copy  of  the  Instructions,  and 
slowly  folded  it  up  again,  in  the  shape  in  which  it  had  been  pre- 
sented to  her.  "  I  am  much  obliged  to  you,  Mr.  Pendril."  With 
those  words,  she  bowed,  and  gently  pushed  the  manuscript  back 
across  the  table ;  then  turned  to  her  sister. 

"  Norah,"  she  said,  "  if  we  both  of  us  live  to  grow  old,  and  if  you 
ever  forget  all  that  we  owe  to  Michael  Vanstone — come  to  me,  and 
I  will  remind  you." 

She  rose  and  walked  across  the  room  by  herself  to  the  window. 
As  she  passed  Mr.  Clare,  the  old  man  stretched  out  his  claw-like 
fingers,  and  caught  her  fast  by  the  arm  before  she  was  aware  of 
him. 

"What  is  this  mask  of  yours  hiding?"  he  asked,  forcing  her  to 
bend  to  him,  and  looking  close  into  her  face.  "  Which  of  the  ex- 
tremes of  human  temperature  does  your  courage  start  from — the 
dead  cold  or  the  white  hot  ?" 

She  shrank  back  from  him,  and  turned  away  her  head  in  silence. 
She  would  have  resented  that  unscrupulous  intrusion  on  her  own 
thoughts  from  any  man  alive  but  Frank's  father.  He  dropped  her 
arm  as  suddenly  as  he  had  taken  it,  and  let  her  go  on  to  the  win- 
dow. "  No,"  he  said  to  himself,  "  not  the  cold  extreme,  whatever 
else  it  may  be.  So  much  the  worse  for  her,  and  for  all  belonging  to 
her." 

There  was  a  momentary  pause.  Once  more  the  dripping  rustle 
of  the  rain  and  the  steady  ticking  of  the  clock  filled  up  the  gap  of 
silence.  Mr.  Pendril  put  the  Instructions  back  in  his  pocket,  con- 
sidered a  little,  and,  turning   toward  Norah  and  Miss   Garth,  re 


NO    NAME. 


137 


called  their  attention  to  the  present  and  pressing  necessities  of  the 
time. 

"  Our  consultation  has  been  needlessly  prolonged,"  he  said,  "  by 
painful  references  to  the  past.  We  shall  be  better  employed  in  settling 
our  arrangements  for  the  future.  I  am  obliged  to  return  to  town  this 
evening.  Pray  let  me  hear  how  I  can  best  assist  you  ;  pray  tell  me 
what  trouble  and  what  responsibility  I  can  take  off  your  hands." 

For  the  moment,  neither  Norah  nor  Miss  Garth  seemed  to  be 
capable  of  answering  him.  Magdalen's  reception  of  the  news  which 
annihilated  the  marriage  prospect  that  her  father's  own  lips  had 
placed  before  her  not  a  month  since,  had  bewildered  and  dismayed 
them  alike.  They  had  summoned  their  courage  to  meet  the  shock 
of  her  passionate  grief,  or  to  face  the  harder  trial  of  witnessing  her 
speechless  despair.  But  they  wrere  not  prepared  for  her  invincible 
resolution  to  read  the  Instructions ;  for  the  terrible  questions  which 
she  had  put  to  the  lawyer ;  for  her  immovable  determination  to  fix 
all  the  circumstances  in  her  mind,  under  which  Michael  Vanstone's 
decision  had  been  pronounced.  There  she  stood  at  the  window,  an 
unfathomable  mystery  to  the  sister  who  had  never  been  parted  from 
her,  to  the  governess  who  had  trained  her  from  a  child.  Miss  Garth 
remembered  the  dark  doubts  which  had  crossed  her  mind  on  the 
day  when  she  and  Magdalen  had  met  in  the  garden.  Norah  looked 
forward  to  the  coming  time,  with  the  first  serious  dread  of  it  on  her 
sister's  account,  which  she  had  felt  yet.  Both  had  hitherto  remain- 
ed passive,  in  despair  of  knowing  what  to  do.  Both  were  now  si- 
lent, in  despair  of  knowing  what  to  say. 

Mr.  Pendril  patiently  and  kindly  helped  them,  by  returning  to 
the  subject  of  their  future  plans  for  the  second  time. 

"  I  am  sorry  to  press  any  business  matters  on  your  attention,"  he 
said,  "  when  you  are  necessarily  unfitted  to  deal  with  them.  But  I 
must  take  my  instructions  back  to  London  with  me  to-night.  With 
reference,  in  the  first  place,  to  the  disgraceful  pecuniary  offer,  to 
which  I  have  already  alluded.  The  younger  Miss  Vanstone  having 
read  the  Instructions,  needs  no  further  information  from  my  lips. 
The  elder  will,  I  hope,  excuse  me  if  I  tell  her  (what  I  should  be 
ashamed  to  tell  her,  but  that  it  is  a  matter  of  necessity),  that  Mr. 
Michael  Vanstone's  provision  for  his  brother's  children  begins  and 
ends  with  an  offer  to  each  of  them  of  one  hundred  pounds." 

Norah's  face  crimsoned  with  indignation.  She  started  to  her 
feet,  as  if  Michael  Vanstone  had  been  present  in  the  room,  and  had 
personally  insulted  her. 

UI  see,"  said  the  lawyer,  wishing  to  spare  her;  UI  may  tell  Mr. 
Michael  Vanstone  you  refuse  the  money." 

"  Tell  him,"  she  broke  out  passionately,  "  if  I  was  starving  by  the 
roadside,  I  wouldn't  touch  a  farthing  of  it !" 


138  NO    NAME. 

"  Shall  I  notify  your  refusal  also  ?"  asked  Mr.  Pendril,  speaking  to 
Magdalen  next. 

She  turned  round  from  the  window — but  kept  her  face  in  shadow, 
by  standing  close  against  it  with  her  back  to  the  light. 

"  Tell  him,  on  my  part,"  she  said,  "  to  think  again  before  he  starts 
me  in  life  with  a  hundred  pounds.  I  will  give  him  time  to  think." 
She  spoke  those  strange  words  with  a  marked  emphasis ;  and  turn- 
ing back  quickly  to  the  window,  hid  her  face  from  the  observation 
of  every  one  in  the  room. 

"  You  both  refuse  the  offer,"  said  Mr.  Pendril,  taking  out  his  pen- 
cil, and  making  his  professional  note  of  the  decision.  As  he  shut 
up  his  pocket-book,  he  glanced  toward  Magdalen  doubtfully.  She 
had  roused  in  him  the  latent  distrust  which  is  a  lawyer's  second 
nature :  he  had  his  suspicions  of  her  looks ;  he  had  his  suspicions 
of  her  language.  Her  sister  seemed  to  have  more  influence  over  her 
than  Miss  Garth.  He  resolved  to  speak  privately  to  her  sister  before 
he  went  away. 

While  the  idea  was  passing  through  his  mind,  his  attention  was 
claimed  by  another  question  from  Magdalen. 

"  Is  he  an  old  man  ?"  she  asked,  suddenly,  without  turning  round 
from  the  window. 

"  If  you  mean  Mr.  Michael  Vanstone,  he  is  seventy -five  or  seventy- 
six  years  of  age." 

"  You  spoke  of  his  son  a  little  while  since.  Has  he  any  other 
sons — or  daughters  ?" 

"None." 

"  Do  you  know  any  thing  of  his  wife  ?" 

"  She  has  been  dead  for  many  years." 

There  was  a  pause.  "  Why  do  you  ask  these  questions  ?"  said 
Norah. 

"  I  beg  your  pardon,"  replied  Magdalen,  quietly ;  "  I  won't  ask 
any  more." 

For  the  third  time,  Mr.  Pendril  returned  to  the  business  of  the 
interview. 

"  The  servants  must  not  be  forgotten,"  he  said.  "  They  must  be 
Bettled  with  and  discharged :  I  will  give  them  the  necessary  expla- 
nation before  I  leave.  As  for  the  house,  no  questions  connected  with 
it  need  trouble  you.  The  carriages  and  horses,  the  furniture  and 
plate,  and  so  on,  must  simply  be  left  on  the  premises  to  await  Mr. 
Michael  Vanstone's  further  orders.  But  any  possessions,  Miss  Van- 
stone,  personally  belonging  to  you  or  to  your  sister — jewelry  and 
dresses,  and  any  little  presents  which  may  have  been  made  to  you — 
are  entirely  at  your  disposal.  With  regard  to  the  time  of  your  de- 
parture, I  understand  that  a  month,  or  more,  will  elapse  before  Mr. 
Michael  Vanstone  can  leave  Zurich ;  and  I  am  sure  I  only  do  his 
solicitor  justice  in  saying — " 


NO    NAME.  139 

"  Excuse  me,  Mr.  Pendril,"  interposed  Norah  ;  "  I  think  I  under- 
stand, from  what  you  have  just  said,  that  our  house  and  every  thing 
in  it  belongs  to—  ?"  She  stopped,  as  if  the  mere  utterance  of  the 
man's  name  was  abhorrent  to  her. 

"  To  Michael  Vanstone,"  said  Mr.  Pendril.  "  The  house  goes  to 
him  with  the  rest  of  the  property." 

"  Then  I,  for  one,  am  ready  to  learc  it  to-morrow  !" 

Magdalen  started  at  the  window,  as  her  sister  spoke,  and  looked 
at  Mr.  Clare,  with  the  first  open  signs  of  anxiety  and  alarm  which 
she  had  shown  yet. 

"Don't  be  angry  with  me,"  she  whispered,  stooping  over  the  old 
man  with  a  sudden  humility  of  look,  and  a  sudden  nervousness  of 
manner.     "  I  can't  go  without  seeing  Frank  first !" 

"  You  shall  see  him,"  replied  Mr.  Clare.  "  I  am  here  to  speak  to 
you  about  it,  when  the  business  is  done." 

"  It  is  quite  unnecessary  to  hurry  your  departure,  as  you  propose," 
continued  Mr.  Pendril,  addressing  Norah.  "  I  can  safely  assure  you 
that  a  week  hence  will  be  time  enough." 

"  If  this  is  Mr.  Michael  Vanstone's  house,"  repeated  Norah,  "  I  am 
ready  to  leave  it  to-morrow." 

She  impatiently  quitted  her  chair,  and  seated  herself  farther 
away  on  the  sofa.  As  she  laid  her  hand  on  the  back  of  it,  her  face 
changed.  There,  at  the  head  of  the  sofa,  were  the  cushions  which 
had  supported  her  mother  when  she  lay  down  for  the  last  time  to 
repose.  There,  at  the  foot  of  the  sofa,  was  the  clumsy,  old  fash- 
ioned arm-chair,  which  had  been  her  father's  favorite  seat  on  rainy 
days,  when  she  and  her  sister  used  to  amuse  him  at  the  piano  oppo- 
site, by  playing  his  favorite  tunes.  A  heavy  sigh,  which  she  tried 
vainly  to  repress,  burst  from  her  lips.  "  Oh,"  she  thought,  "  I  had 
forgotten  these  old  friends !  How  shall  we  part  from  them  when 
the  time  comes !" 

"  May  I  inquire,  Miss  Vanstone,  whether  you  and  your  sister  have 
formed  any  definite  plans  for  the  future  ?"  asked  Mr.  Pendril.  "  Have 
you  thought  of  any  place  of  residence  ?" 

"  I  may  take  it  on  myself,  sir,"  said  Miss  Garth,  "  to  answer  your 
question  for  them.  When  they  leave  this  house,  they  leave  it  with 
me.  My  home  is  their  home,  and  my  bread  is  their  bread.  Their 
parents  honored  me,  trusted  me,  and  loved  me.  For  twelve  happy 
years  they  never  let  me  remember  that  I  was  their  governess ;  they 
only  let  me  know  myself  as  their  companion  and  their  friend.  My 
memory  of  them  is  the  memory  of  unvarying  gentleness  and  gen- 
erosity ;  and  my  life  shall  pay  the  debt  of  my  gratitude  to  their  or- 
phan children." 

Norah  rose  hastily  from  the  sofa  ;  Magdalen  impetuously  left  the 
window.     For  once,  there  was  no  contrast  in  the  conduct  of  the  sis- 


140  NO   NAME. 

ters.  For  once,  the  same  impulse  moved  their  hearts,  the  same  ear- 
nest feeling  inspired  their  words.  Miss  Garth  waited  until  the  first 
outburst  of  emotion  had  passed  away ;  then  rose,  and,  taking  Norah 
and  Magdalen  each  by  the  hand,  addressed  herself  to  Mr.  Pendril 
and  Mr.  Clare.  She  spoke  with  perfect  self-possession ;  strong  in 
her  artless  unconsciousness  of  her  own  good  action. 

"  Even  such  a  trifle  as  my  own  story,"  she  said,  "  is  of  some  im- 
portance at  such  a  moment  as  this.  I  wish  you  both,  gentlemen,  to 
understand  that  I  am  not  promising  more  to  the  daughters  of  your 
old  friend  than  I  can  perform.  When  I  first  came  to  this  house,  I 
entered  it  under  such  independent  circumstances  as  are  not  com- 
mon in  the  lives  of  governesses.  In  my  younger  days,  I  was  asso- 
ciated in  teaching  with  my  elder  sister :  we  established  a  school  in 
London,  which  grew  to  be  a  large  and  prosperous  one.  I  only  left 
it,  and  became  a  private  governess,  because  the  heavy  responsibility 
of  the  school  was  more  than  my  strength  could  hear.  I  left  my 
share  in  the  profits  untouched,  and  I  possess  a  pecuniary  interest  in 
our  establishment  to  this  day.  That  is  my  story,  in  few  words. 
When  we  leave  this  house,  I  propose  that  we  shall  go  back  to  the 
school  in  London,  which  is  still  prosperously  directed  by  my  elder 
sister.  We  can  live  there  as  quietly  as  we  please,  until  time  has 
helped  us  to  bear  our  affliction  better  than  we  can  bear  it  now.  If 
Norah's  and  Magdalen's  altered  prospects  oblige  them  to  earn  their 
own  independence,  I  can  help  them  to  earn  it,  as  a  gentleman's 
daughters  should.  The  best  families  in  this  land  are  glad  to  ask 
my  sister's  advice  where  the  interests  of  their  children's  home-train- 
ing are  concerned ;  and  I  answer,  beforehand,  for  her  hearty  desire 
to  serve  Mr.  Vanstone's  daughters,  as  I  answer  for  my  own.  That 
is  the  future  which  my  gratitude  to  their  father  and  mother,  and 
my  love  for  themselves,  now  offers  to  them.  If  you  think  my  pro- 
posal, gentlemen,  a  fit  and  fair  proposal— and  I  see  in  your  faces 
that  you  do — let  us  not  make  the  hard  necessities  of  our  position 
harder  still,  by  any  useless  delay  in  meeting  them  at  once.  Let  us 
do  what  we  must  do  ;  let  us  act  on  Norah's  decision,  and  leave  this 
house  to-morrow.  You  mentioned  the  servants  just  now,  Mr.  Pen- 
dril :  I  am  ready  to  call  them  together  in  the  next  room,  and  to  as 
8ist  you  in  the  settlement  of  their  claims,  whenever  you  please." 

Without  waiting  for  the  lawyer's  answer,  without  leaving  the  sis- 
ters time  to  realize  their  own  terrible  situation,  she  moved  at  once 
toward  the  door.  It  was  her  wise  resolution  to  meet  the  coming 
trial  by  doing  much  and  saying  little.  Before  she  could  leave  the 
room,  Mr.  Clare  followed,  and  stopped  her  on  the  threshold. 

"  I  never  envied  a  woman's  feelings  before,"  said  the  old  man. 
"  It  may  surprise  you  to  hear  it ;  but  I  envy  yours.  Wait !  I  have 
something  more  to  say.     There  is  an  obstacle  still  left — the  everlast- 


NO   NAME.  141 

ing  obstacle  of  Frank.  Help  me  to  sweep  him  off.  Take  the  elder 
sister  along  with  you  and  the  lawyer,  and  leave  me  here  to  have 
it  out  with  the  younger.  I  want  to  see  what  metal  she's  really 
made  of." 

While  Mr.  Clare  was  addressing  these  words  to  Miss  Garth,  Mr. 
Pendril  had  taken  the  opportunity  of  speaking  to  Norah.  "  Before 
I  go  back  to  town,"  he  said,  "  I  should  like  to  have  a  word  with 
you  in  private.  From  what  has  passed  to-day,  Miss  Vanstone,  I 
have  formed  a  very  high  opinion  of  your  discretion  ;  and,  as  an  old 
friend  of  your  father's,  I  want  to  take  the  freedom  of  speaking  to 
you  about  your  sister." 

Before  Norah  could  answer,  she  was  summoned,  in  compliance 
with  Mr.  Clare's  request,  to  the  conference  with  the  servants.  Mr. 
Pendril  followed  Miss  Garth,  as  a  matter  of  course.  When  the  three 
were  out  in  the  hall,  Mr.  Clare  re-entered  the  room,  closed  the  door, 
and  signed  peremptorily  to  Magdalen  to  take  a  chair. 

See  obeyed  him  in  silence.  He  took  a  turn  up  and  down  the 
room,  with  his  hands  in  the  side-pockets  of  the  long,  loose,  shape- 
less coat  which  he  habitually  wore. 

"  How  old  are  you  ?"  he  said,  stopping  suddenly,  and  speaking 
to  her  with  the  whole  breadth  of  the  room  between  them. 

"  I  was  eighteen  last  birthday,"  she  answered,  humbly,  without 
looking  up  at  him. 

"  You  have  shown  extraordinary  courage  for  a  girl  of  eighteen. 
Have  you  got  any  of  that  courage  left  ?" 

She  clasped  her  hands  together,  and  wrung  them  hard.  A  few 
tears  gathered  in  her  eyes,  and  rolled  slowly  over  her  cheeks. 

"  I  can't  give  Frank  up,"  she  said,  faintly.  "  You  don't  care  for 
me,  I  know ;  but  you  used  to  care  for  my  father.  Will  you  try  to 
be  kind  to  me  for  my  father's  sake  ?" 

The  last  words  died  away  in  a  whisper ;  she  could  say  no  more. 
Never  had  she  felt  the  illimitable  power  which  a  woman's  love  pos- 
sesses of  absorbing  into  itself  every  other  event,  every  other  joy  or 
sorrow  of  her  life,  as  she  felt  it  then.  Never  had  she  so  tenderly 
associated  Frank  with  the  memory  of  her  lost  parents,  as  at  that 
moment.  Never  had  the  impenetrable  atmosphere  of  illusion 
through  which  women  behold  the  man  of  their  choice— the  atmos- 
phere which  had  blinded  her  to  all  that  was  weak,  selfish,  and 
mean  in  Frank's  nature — surrounded  him  with  a  brighter  halo  than 
now,  when  she  was  pleading  with  the  father  for  the  possession  of 
the  son.  "  Oh,  don't  ask  me  to  give  him  up  !"  she  said,  trying  to 
take  courage,  and  shuddering  from  head  to  foot.  In  the  next  in- 
stant, she  flew  to  the  opposite  extreme,  with  the  suddenness  of  a 
flash  of  lightning.  "  I  won't  give  him  up  !"  she  burst  out  violently. 
"  No  !  not  if  a  thousand  fathers  ask  me  !" 


142  NO   NAME. 

I  am  one  father,"  said  Mr.  Clare.     "And  I  don't  ask  you." 

In  the  first  astonishment  and  delight  of  hearing  those  unexpected 
words,  she  started  to  her  feet,  crossed  the  room,  and  tried  to  throw 
her  arms  round  his  neck.  She  might  as  well  have  attempted  to 
move  the  house  from  its  foundations.  He  took  her  by  the  shoulders 
and  put  her  back  in  her  chair.  His  inexorable  eyes  looked  her  into 
submission ;  and  his  lean  forefinger  shook  at  her  warningly,  as  if  he 
was  quieting  a  fractious  child. 

"  Hug  Frank,"  he  said ;  "  don't  hug  me.  I  haven't  done  with 
you  yet ;  when  I  have,  you  may  shake  hands  with  me,  if  you  like. 
Wait,  and  compose  yourself." 

He  left  her.  His  hands  went  back  into  his  pockets,  and  his  mo- 
notonous march  up  and  down  the  room  began  again. 

"  Ready  ?"  he  asked,  stopping  short  after  a  while.  She  tried  to 
answer.  "  Take  two  minutes  more,"  he  said,  and  resumed  his  walk 
with  the  regularity  of  clock-work.  "  These  are  the  creatures,"  he 
thought  to  himself,  "  into  whose  keeping  men  otherwise  sensible 
give  the  happiness  of  their  lives.  Is  there  any  other  object  in  crea- 
tion, I  wonder,  which  answers  its  end  as  badly  as  a  woman  does  ?" 

He  stopped  before  her  once  more.  Her  breathing  was  easier ;  the 
dark  flush  on  her  face  was  dying  out  again. 

"  Ready  ?"  he  repeated.  "  Yes  ;  ready  at  last.  Listen  to  me ; 
and  let's  get  it  over.  I  don't  ask  you  to  give  Frank  up.  I  ask  you 
to  wait." 

"  I  will  wait,"  she  said.     "  Patiently,  willingly." 

"  Will  you  make  Frank  wait  ?" 

"  Yes." 

"  Will  you  send  him  to  China  ?" 

Her  head  drooped  upon  her  bosom,  and  she  clasped  her  hands, 
again,  in  silence.  Mr.  Clare  saw  where  the  difficulty  lay,  and  march- 
ed straight  up  to  it  on  the  spot. 

"  I  don't  pretend  to  enter  into  your  feelings  for  Frank,  or  Frank's 
for  you,"  he  said.  "  The  subject  doesn't  interest  me.  But  I  do  pre- 
tend to  state  two  plain  truths.  It  is  one  plain  truth  that  you  can't 
be  married  till  you  have  money  enough  to  pay  for  the  roof  that 
shelters  you,  the  clothes  that  cover  you,  and  the  victuals  you  eat. 
It  is  another  plain  truth  that  you  can't  find  the  money  ;  that  I  can't 
find  the  money ;  and  that  Frank's  only  chance  of  finding  it,  is  go- 
ing to  China.  If  I  tell  him  to  go,  he'll  sit  in  a  corner  and  cry.  If 
I  insist,  he'll  say  Yes,  and  deceive  me.  If  I  go  a  step  further,  and 
see  him  on  board  ship  with  my  own  eyes,  he'll  slip  off  in  the  pilot's 
boat,  and  sneak  back  secretly  to  you.     That's  his  disposition." 

"  No  !"  said  Magdalen.  "  It's  not  his  disposition ;  it's  his  love  for 
Me." 

"  Call  it  what  you  like,"  retorted  Mr.  Clare.    "  Sneak  or  Sweet 


BEADY?"  HE    ASKED,   STOPPING    SHORT    AFTER    A    WHILE. 


NO   NAME.  145 

heart  —  he's  too  slippery,  in  either  capacity,  for  my  fingers  to  hold 
him.  My  shutting  the  door  won't  keep  him  from  coining  back. 
Your  shutting  the  door  will.  Have  you  the  courage  to  shut  it  ? 
Are  you  fond  enough  of  him  not  to  stand  in  his  light  ?" 

"  Fond !     I  would  die  for  him  !" 

"  Will  you  send  him  to  China  ?" 

She  sighed  bitterly. 

"  Have  a  little  pity  for  me,"  she  said.  "  I  have  lost  my  father ;  I 
have  lost  my  mother ;  I  have  lost  my  fortune — and  now  I  am  to  lose 
Frank.  You  don't  like  women,  I  know ;  but  try  to  help  me  with  a 
little  pity.  I  don't  say  it's  not  for  his  own  interests  to  send  him  to 
China ;  I  only  say  it's  hard — very,  very  hard  on  me." 

Mr.  Clare  had  been  deaf  to  her  violence,  insensible  to  her  caresses, 
blind  to  her  tears ;  but  under  the  tough  integument  of  his  philoso- 
phy, he  had  a  heart — and  it  answered  that  hopeless  appeal ;  it  felt 
those  touching  words. 

"  I  don't  deny  that  your  case  is  a  hard  one,"  he  said.  "  I  don't 
want  to  make  it  harder :  I  only  ask  you  to  do  in  Frank's  interests 
what  Frank  is  too  weak  to  do  for  himself.  It's  no  fault  of  yours ; 
it's  no  fault  of  mine — but  it's  not  the  less  true,  that  the  fortune  you 
were  to  have  brought  him  has  changed  owners." 

She  suddenly  looked  up,  with  a  furtive  light  in  her  eyes,  with  a 
threatening  smile  on  her  lips. 

"  It  may  change  owners  again,"  she  said. 

Mr.  Clare  saw  the  alteration  in  her  expression,  and  heard  the  tones 
of  her  voice.  But  the  words  were  spoken  low ;  "spoken  as  if  to  her- 
self— they  failed  to  reach  him  across  the  breadth  of  the  room.  He 
stopped  instantly  in  his  walk,  and  asked  what  she  had  said. 

"  Nothing,"  she  answered,  turning  her  head  away  toward  the  win- 
dow, and  looking  out  mechanically  at  the  falling  rain.  "  Only  my 
own  thoughts." 

Mr.  Clare  resumed  his  walk,  and  returned  to  his  subject. 

"  It's  your  interest,"  he  went  on,  "  as  well  as  Frank's  interest,  that 
he  should  go.  He  may  make  money  enough  to  many  you  in  China ; 
he  can't  make  it  here.  If  he  stops  at  home,  he'll  be  the  ruin  of  both 
of  you.  He'll  shut  his  eyes  to  every  consideration  of  prudence,  and 
pester  you  to  marry  him ;  and  when  he  has  carried  his  point,  he  will 
be  the  first  to  turn  round  afterward,  and  complain  that  you're  a  bur- 
den on  him.  Hear  me  out !  You're  in  love  with  Frank — I'm  not, 
and  I  know  him.  Put  you  two  together  often  enough ;  give  him 
time  enough  to  hug,  cry,  pester,  and  plead;  and  I'll  tell  you  what 
the  end  will  be — you'll  marry  him." 

He  had  touched  the  right  string  at  last.  It  rung  back  in  answer, 
before  he  could  add  another  word. 

"  You  don't  know  me,"  she  said,  firmly.     "  You  don't  know  what 


146  NO   NAME. 

I  can  suffer  for  Frank's  sake.  He  shall  never  marry  me,  till  I  can  be 
what  my  father  said  I  should  be  —  the  making  of  his  fortune.  He 
shall  take  no  burden,  when  he  takes  me ;  I  promise  you  that !  I'll 
be  the  good  angel  of  Frank's  life ;  I'll  not  go  a  penniless  girl  to  him, 
and  drag  him  down."  She  abruptly  left  her  seat,  advanced  a  few 
steps  toward  Mr.  Clare,  and  stopped  in  the  middle  of  the  room. 
Her  arms  fell  helpless  on  either  side  of  her,  and  she  burst  into  tears. 
"  He  shall  go,"  she  said.  "  If  my  heart  breaks  in  doing  it,  I'll  tell 
him  to-morrow  that  we  must  say  Good-bye  !" 

Mr.  Clare  at  once  advanced  to  meet  her,  and  held  out  his  hand. 

"  I'll  help  you,"  he  said.  "  Frank  shall  hear  every  word  that  has 
passed  between  us.  When  he  comes  to-morrow,  he  shall  know,  be- 
forehand, that  he  comes  to  say  Good-bye." 

She  took  his  hand  in  both  her  own — hesitated — looked  at  him — 
and  pressed  it  to  her  bosom.  "  May  I  ask  a  favor  of  you,  before 
you  go  ?"  she  said,  timidly.  He  tried  to  take  his  hand  from  her ; 
but  she  knew  her  advantage,  and  held  it  fast.  "  Suppose  there 
should  be  some  change  for  the  better  ?"  she  went  on.  "  Suppose  ] 
could  come  to  Frank,  as  my  father  said  I  should  come  to  him —  ?" 

Before  she  could  complete  the  question,  Mr.  Clare  made  a  second 
effort,  and  withdrew  his  hand.  "As  your  father  said  you  should 
come  to  him  ?"  he  repeated,  looking  at  her  attentively. 

"  Yes,"  she  replied.  "  Strange  things  happen  sometimes.  If 
strange  things  happen  to  me,  will  you  let  Frank  come  back  before 
the  five  years  are  out  ?" 

What  did  she  mean  ?  Was  she  clinging  desperately  to  the  hope 
of  melting  Michael  Vanstone's  heart  ?  Mr.  Clare  could  draw  no 
other  conclusion  from  what  she  had  just  said  to  him.  At  the  be- 
ginning of  the  interview,  he  would  have  roughly  dispelled  her  de- 
lusion. At  the  end  of  the  interview,  he  left  her  compassionately  in 
possession  of  it. 

"  You  are  hoping  against  all  hope,"  he  said ;  "but  if  it  gives  you 
courage,  hope  on.  If  this  impossible  good  fortune  of  yours  ever 
happens,  tell  me,  and  Frank  shall  come  back.     In  the  mean  time — " 

"  In  the  mean  time,"  she  interposed,  sadly,  "  you  have  my  promise." 

Once  more  Mr.  Clare's  sharp  eyes  searched  her  face  attentively. 

"  I  will  trust  your  promise,"  he  said.  "  You  shall  see  Frank  to- 
morrow." 

She  went  back  thoughtfully  to  her  chair,  and  sat  down  again  in 
silence.  Mr.  Clare  made  for  the  door,  before  any  formal  leave-tak- 
ing could  pass  between  them.  "  Deep  !"  he  thought  to  himself,  as 
he  looked  back  at  her  before  he  went  out ;  "  only  eighteen ;  and  too 
deep  for  my  sounding !" 

In  the  hall  he  found  Norah,  waiting  anxiously  to  bear  what  had 
happened. 


NO    NAME.  147 

"  Is  it  all  over  ?"  she  asked.  "  Does  Frank  go  to  China?" 
"  Be  careful  how  you  manage  that  sister  of  yours,"  said  Mr.  Clare, 
without  noticing  the  question.  "  She  has  one  great  misfortune  to 
contend  with :  she's  not  made  for  the  ordinary  jog-trot  of  a  wom- 
an's life.  I  don't  say  I  can  see  straight  to  the  end  of  the  good  or 
the  evil  in  her — I  only  warn  you,  her  future  will  be  no  common  one." 

An  hour  later,  Mr.  Pendril  left  the  house ;  and,  by  that  night's 
post,  Miss  Garth  dispatched  a  letter  to  her  sister  in  London. 

THE   END   OP    THE   FLRST   SCENE. 


BETWEEN  THE  SCENES. 

PROGRESS  OF  THE  STORY  THROUGH  THE  POST. 


I. 

From  Nor  ah   Vanstone  to  Mr.  Pendril. 

"  Westmoreland  House,  Kensington, 
"August  14th,  1S46. 

"  Dear  Mr.  Pendril,— The  date  of  this  letter  will  show  you  that 
the  last  of  many  hard  partings  is  over.  We  have  left  Combe-Raven ; 
we  have  said  farewell  to  home. 

"  I  have  been  thinking  seriously  of  what  you  said  to  me  on  Wednes- 
day, before  you  went  back  to  town.  I  entirely  agree  with  you,  that 
Miss  Garth  is  more  shaken  by  all  she  has  gone  through  for  our 
sakes,  than  she  is  herself  willing  to  admit ;  and  that  it  is  my  duty,  for 
the  future,  to  spare  her  all  the  anxiety  that  I  can  on  the  subject  of 
my  sister  and  myself.  This  is  very  little  to  do  for  our  dearest  friend, 
for  our  second  mother.     Such  as  it  is,  I  will  do  it  with  all  my  heart. 

"  But,  forgive  me  for  saying  that  I  am  as  far  as  ever  from  agree- 
ing with  you  about  Magdalen.  I  am  so  sensible,  in  our  helpless 
position,  of  the  importance  of  your  assistance ;  so  anxious  to  be 
worthy  of  the  interest  of  my  father's  trusted  adviser  and  oldest 
friend,  that  I  feel  really  and  truly  disappointed  with  myself  for  dif- 
fering with  you — and  yet  I  do  differ.  Magdalen  is  very  strange, 
very  unaccountable,  to  those  who  don't  know  her  intimately.  I 
can  understand  that  she  has  innocently  misled  you ;  and  that  she 
has  presented  herself,  perhaps,  under  her  least  favorable  asjiect. 
But  that  the  clue  to  her  language,  and  her  conduct  on  Wednesday 
last,  is  to  be  found  in  such  a  feeling  toward  the  man  who  has  ruined 
us,  as  the  feeling  at  which  you  hinted,  is  what  I  can  not  and  will 


148  NO    NAME. 

not  believe  of  my  sister.  If  you  knew,  as  I  do,  what  a  noble  nature 
she  has,  you  would  not  be  surprised  at  this  obstinate  resistance  of 
mine  to  your  opinion.  Will  you  try  to  alter  it  ?  I  don't  mind  what 
Mr.  Clare  says ;  he  believes  in  nothing.  .But  I  attach  a  very  serious 
importance  to  what  you  say;  and,  kind  as  I  know  your  motives  to 
be,  it  distresses  me  to  think  you  are  doing  Magdalen  an  injustice. 

"  Having  relieved  my  mind  of  this  confession,  I  may  now  come  to 
the  proper  object  of  my  letter.  I  promised,  if  you  could  not  find 
leisure  time  to  visit  us  to-day,  to  write  and  tell  you  all  that  happen- 
ed after  you  left  us.  The  day  has  passed,  without  our  seeing  you 
So  I  open  my  writing-case,  and  perform  my  promise. 

"  I  am  sorry  to  say  that  three  of  the  women-servants — the  house- 
maid, the  kitchen-maid,  and  even  our  own  maid  (to  whom  I  am  sure 
we  have  always  been  kind) — took  advantage  of  your  having  paid 
them  their  wages  to  pack  up  and  go,  as  soon  as  your  back  was 
turned.  They  came  to  say  good-bye  with  as  much  ceremony,  and 
as  little  feeling,  as  if  they  were  leaving  the  house  under  ordinary 
circumstances.  The  cook,  for  all  her  violent  temper,  behaved  very 
differently :  she  sent  up  a  message  to  say  that  she  would  stop  and 
help  us  to  the  last.  And  Thomas  (who  has  never  yet  been  in  any 
other  place  than  ours)  spoke  so  gratefully  of  my  dear  father's  un- 
varying kindness  to  him,  and  asked  so  anxiously  to  be  allowed  to 
go  on  serving  us  while  his  little  savings  lasted,  that  Magdalen  and 
I  forgot  all  formal  considerations,  and  both  shook  hands- with  him. 
The  poor  lad  went  out  of  the  room  crying.  I  wish  him  well;  I 
hope  he  will  find  a  kind  master  and  a  good  place. 

"  The  long,  quiet,  rainy  evening  out-of-doors — our  last  evening  at 
Combe-Raven  —  was  a  sad  trial  to  us.  I  think  winter-time  would 
have  weighed  less  on  our  spirits ;  the  drawn  curtains,  and  the 
bright  lamps,  and  the  companionable  fires  would  have  helped  us. 
We  were  only  five  in  the  house  altogether — after  having  once  been 
so  many  !  I  can't  tell  you  how  dreary  the  gray  daylight  looked, 
toward  seven  o'clock,  in  the  lonely  rooms,  and  on  the  noiseless  stair- 
case. Surely,  the  prejudice  in  favor  of  long  summer  evenings  is  the 
prejudice  of  happy  people?  We  did  our  best.  We  kept  ourselves 
employed,  and  Miss  Garth  helped  us.  The  prospect  of  preparing 
for  our  departure,  which  had  seemed  so  dreadful  earlier  in  the  day, 
altered  into  the  prospect  of  a  refuge  from  ourselves,  as  the  evening 
came  on.  We  each  tried  at  first  to  pack  up  in  our  own  rooms — but 
the  loneliness  was  more  than  we  could  bear.  We  carried  all  our 
possessions  down  stairs,  and  heaped  them  on  the  large  dining-table, 
and  so  made  our  preparations  together  in  the  same  room.  I  am 
sure  we  have  taken  nothing  away  which  does  not  properly  belong 
to  us. 

"  Having  already  mentioned  to  you  my  own  conviction  that  Mag- 


NO    NAME.  149 

(lnlen  was  not  herself  when  you  saw  her  on  "Wednesday,  I  feel 
tempted  to  stop  here,  and  give  you  an  instance  in  proof  of  what  I 
say.  The  little  circumstance  happened  on  Wednesday  night,  just 
before  we  went  up  to  our  rooms. 

"After  we  had  packed  our  dresses  and  our  birthday  presents,  our 
books  and  our  music,  we  began  to  sort  our  letters,  which  had  got 
confused  from  being  all  placed  on  the  table  together.  Some  of  my 
letters  were  mixed  with  Magdalen's,  and  some  of  hers  with  mine. 
Among  these  last,  I  found  a  card,  which  had  been  given  to  my  sis- 
ter early  in  the  year,  by  an  actor  who  managed  an  amateur  theatrical 
performance  in  which  she  took  a  part.  The  man  had  given  her  the 
card,  containing  his  name  and  address,  in  the  belief  that  she  would 
be  invited  to  many  more  amusements  of  the  same  kind,  and  in  the 
hope  that  she  would  recommend  him  as  a  superintendent  on  future 
occasions.  I  only  relate  these  trifling  particulars  to  show  you  how 
little  worth  keeping  such  a  card  could  be,  in  such  circumstances  as 
ours.  Naturally  enough,  I  threw  it  away  from  me  across  the  table, 
meaning  to  throw  it  on  the  floor.  It  fell  short,  close  to  the  place 
in  which  Magdalen  was  sitting.  She  took  it  up,  looked  at  it,  and 
immediately  declared  that  she  would  not  have  had  this  perfectly 
worthless  thing  destroyed  for  the  world.  She  was  almost  angry 
with  me  for  having  thrown  it  away ;  almost  angry  with  Miss  Garth 
for  asking  what  she  could  possibly  want  with  it !  Could  there  be 
any  plainer  proof  than  this  that  our  misfortunes — falling  so  much 
more  heavily  on  her  than  on  me  —  have  quite  unhinged  her,  and 
worn  her  out  ?  Surely  her  words  and  looks  are  not  to  be  inter- 
preted against  her,  when  she  is  not  sufficiently  mistress  of  herself 
to  exert  her  natural  judgment — when  she  shows  the  unreasonable 
petulance  of  a  child  on  a  question  which  is  not  of  the  slightest  im- 
portance. 

"A  little  after  eleven  we  went  up  stairs  to  try  if  we  could  get 
some  rest. 

"  I  drew  aside  the  curtain  of  my  window,  and  looked  out.  Oh, 
what  a  cruel  last  night  it  was ;  no  moon,  no  stars ;  such  deep  dark- 
ness, that  not  one  of  the  dear  familiar  objects  in  the  garden  w,as 
visible  when  I  looked  for  them ;  such  deep  stillness,  that  even  my 
own  movements  about  the  room  almost  frightened  me !  I  tried  to 
lie  down  and  sleep,  but  the  sense  of  loneliness  came  again,  and  quite 
overpowered  me.  You  will  say  I  am  old  enough,  at  six-and-twenty, 
to  have  exerted  more  control  over  myself.  I  hardly  know  how  it 
happened,  but  I  stole  into  Magdalen's  room,  just  as  I  used  to  steal 
into  it  years  and  years  ago,  when  we  were  children.  She  was  not 
in  bed  ;  she  was  sitting  with  her  writing  materials  before  her,  think- 
ing. I  said  I  wanted  to  be  with  her  the  last  night ;  and  she  kissed 
me,  and  told  me  to  lie  down,  and  promised  soon  to  follow  me.     My 


150  NO    NAME. 

mind  was  a  little  quieted,  and  I  fell  asleep.  It  was  daylight  when 
I  woke — and  the  first  sight  I  saw  was  Magdalen,  still  sitting  in  the 
chair,  and  still  thinking.  She  had  never  been  to  bed ;  she  had  not 
slept  all  through  the  night. 

"  '  I  shall  sleep  when  we  have  left  Combe-Raven,'  she  said.  '  I  shall 
be  better  when  it  is  all  over,  and  I  have  bid  Frank  good-bye.'  She 
had  in  her  hand  our  father's  will,  and  the  letter  he  wrote  to  you ; 
and  when  she  had  done  speaking,  she  gave  them  into  my  possession. 
I  was  the  eldest  (she  said),  and  those  last  precious  relics  ought  to 
be  in  my  keeping.  I  tried  to  propose  to  her  that  we  should  divide 
them ;  but  she  shook  her  head.  '  I  have  copied  for  myself,'  was  her 
answer, '  all  that  he  says  of  us  in  the  will,  and  all  that  he  says  in  the 
letter.'  She  told  me  this,  and  took  from  her  bosom  a  tiny  white  silk 
bag,  which  she  had  made  in  the  night,  and  in  which  she  had  put  the 
extracts,  so  as  to  keep  them  always  about  her.  '  This  tells  me  in  his 
own  words  what  his  last  wishes  were  for  both  of  us,'  she  said ;  '  and 
this  is  all  I  want  for  the  future.' 

"  These  are  trifles  to  dwell  on ;  and  I  am  almost  surprised  at 
diyself  for  not  feeling  ashamed  to  trouble  you  with  them.  But, 
since  I  have  known  what  your  early  connection  was  with  my  father 
and  mother,  I  have  learned  to  think  of  you  (and,  I  suppose,  to  write 
to  you)  as  an  old  friend.  And,  besides,  I  have  it  so  much  at  heart 
to  change  your  opinion  of  Magdalen,  that  I  can't  help  telling  you 
the  smallest  things  about  her  which  may,  in  my  judgment,  end  in 
making  you  think  of  her  as  I  do. 

"  When  breakfast- time  came  (on  Thursday  morning),  we  were  sur- 
prised to  find  a  strange  letter  on  the  table.  Perhaps  I  ought  to 
mention  it  to  you,  in  case  of  any  future  necessity  for  your  interfer- 
ence. It  was  addressed  to  Miss  Garth,  on  paper  with  the  deepest 
mourning-border  round  it;  and  the  writer  was  the  same  man  who 
followed  us  on  our  way  home  from  a  walk  one  day  last  spring — 
Captain  Wragge.  His  object  appears  to  be,  to  assert  once  more  his 
audacious  claim  to  a  family  connection  with  my  poor  mother,  under 
cover  of  a  letter  of  condolence,  which  it  is  an  insolence  in  such  a 
person  to  have  written  at  all.  He  expresses  as  much  sympathy — 
on  his  discovery  of  our  affliction  in  the  newspaper — as  if  he  had 
been  really  intimate  with  us ;  and  he  begs  to  know,  in  a  postscript 
(being  evidently  in  total  ignorance  of  all  that  has  really  happened), 
whether  it  is  thought  desirable  that  he  should  be  present,  among 
the  other  relatives,  at  the  reading  of  the  will !  The  address  he 
gives,  at  which  letters  will  reach  him  for  the  next  fortnight,  is, 
'  Post-office,  Birmingham.'  This  is  all  I  have  to  tell  you  on  the 
subject.  Both  the  letter  and  the  writer  seem  to  me  to  be  equally 
unworthy  of  the  slightest  notice,  on  our  part  or  on  yours. 

"After  breakfast  Magdalen  left  us,  and  went  by  herself  into  the 


NO   NAME.  151 

morning-room.  The  weather  being  still  showery,  we  had  arranged 
that  Francis  Clare  should  see  her  in  that  room,  when  he  presented 
himself  to  take  his  leave.  I  was  up  stairs  when  he  came  ;  and  I  re- 
mained up  stairs  for  more  than  half  an  hour  afterward,  sadly  anx- 
ious, as  you  may  well  believe,  on  Magdalen's  account. 

"  At  the  end  of  the  half-hour  or  more,  I  came  down  stairs.  As  I 
reached  the  landing,  I  suddenly  heard  her  voice,  raised  entreatingly, 
and  calling  on  him  by  his  name — then  loud  sobs — then  a  frightful 
laughing  and  screaming,  both  together,  that  rang  through  the  house. 
I  instantly  ran  into  the  room,  and  found  Magdalen  on  the  sofa  in 
violent  hysterics,  and  Frank  standing  staring  at  her,  with  a  lower- 
ing angry  face,  biting  his  nails. 

"  I  felt  so  indignant — without  knowing  plainly  why,  for  I  was  ig- 
norant, of  course,  of  what  had  passed  at  the  interview — that  I  took 
Mr.  Francis  Clare  by  the  shoulders  and  pushed  him  out  of  the  room. 
X  am  careful  to  tell  you  how  I  acted  toward  him,  and  what  led  to 
it;  because  I  understand  that  he  is  excessively  offended  with  me, 
and  that  he  is  likely  to  mention  elsewhere  what  he  calls  my  unlady- 
like violence  toward  him.  If  he  should  mention  it  to  you,  I  am 
I  mxious  to  acknowledge,  of  my  own  accord,  that  I  forgot  myself — 
dot,  I  hope  you  will  think,  without  some  provocation. 

"I  pushed  him  into  the  hall,  leaving  Magdalen,  for  the  moment, 
to  Miss  Garth's  care.  Instead  of  going  away,  he  sat  down  sulkily 
on  one  of  the  hall  chairs.  '  May  I  ask  the  reason  of  this  extraordi- 
nary violence  V  he  inquired,  with  an  injured  look.  '  No,'  I  said. 
'You  will  be  good  enough  to  imagine  the  reason  for  yourself,  and 
to  leave  us  immediately,  if  you  please.'  He  sat  doggedly  in  the 
chair,  biting  his  nails,  and  considering.  '  What  have  I  done  to  be 
treated  in  this  unfeeling  manner  V  he  asked,  after  a  while.  '  I  can 
enter  into  no  discussion  with  you,'  I  answered ;  '  I  can  only  request 
you  to  leave  us.  If  you  persist  in  waiting  to  see  my  sister  again,  I 
will  go  to  the  cottage  myself,  and  appeal  to  your  father.'  He  got 
up  in  a  great  hurry  at  those  words.  '  I  have  been  infamously  used 
in  this  business,'  he  said.  '  All  the  hardships  and  the  sacrifices  have 
fallen  to  my  share.  I'm  the  only  one  among  you  who  has  any 
heart :  all  the  rest  are  as  hard  as  stones — Magdalen  included.  In 
one  breath  she  says  she  loves  me,  and  in  another  she  tells  me  to  go 
to  China.  What  have  I  done  to  be  treated  with  this  heartless  in- 
consistency ?  I'm  consistent  myself — I  only  want  to  stop  at  home 
— and  (what's  the  consequence  ?)  you're  all  against  me  !'  In  that 
manner  he  grumbled  his  way  down  the  steps,  and  so  I  saw  the  last 
of  him.  This  was  all  that  passed  between  us.  If  he  gives  you  any 
other  account  of  it,  what  he  says  will  be  false.  He  made  no  at- 
tempt to  return.  An  hour  afterward  his  father  came  alone  to  say 
good-bye.     He  saw  Miss  Garth  and  me,  but  not  Magdalen ;  and  he 


152  NO    NAME. 

told  us  he  would  take  the  necessary  measures,  with  your  assistance, 
for  having  his  son  properly  looked  after  in  London,  and  seen  safely 
on  board  the  vessel  when  the  time  came.  It  was  a  short  visit,  and 
a  sad  leave-taking.  Even  Mr.  Clare  was  sorry,  though  he  tried  hard 
to  hide  it. 

"We  had  barely  two  hours,  after  Mr.  Clare  had  left  us,  before  it 
would  be  time  to  go.  I  went  back  to  Magdalen,  and  found  her 
quieter  and  better,  though  terribly  pale  and  exhausted,  and  oppress- 
ed, as  I  fancied,  by  thoughts  which  she  could  not  prevail  on  herself 
to  communicate.  She  would  tell  me  nothing  then — she  has  told  mo 
nothing  since — of  what  passed  between  herself  and  Francis  Clare. 
When  I  spoke  of  him  angrily  (feeling  as  I  did  that  he  had  distress- 
ed and  tortured  her,  when  she  ought  to  have  had  all  the  encourage- 
ment and  comfort  from  him  that  man  could  give),  she  refused  to 
hear  me :  she  made  the  kindest  allowances  and  the  sweetest  excuses 
for  him,  and  laid  all  the  blame  of  the  dreadful  state  in  which  I  had 
found  her  entirely  on  herself.  Was  I  wrong  in  telling  you  that  she 
had  a  noble  nature  ?  And  won't  you  alter  your  opinion  when  you 
read  these  lines  ? 

"  We  had  no  friends  to  come  and  bid  us  good-bye ;  and  our  few 
acquaintances  were  too  far  from  us — perhaps  too  indifferent  about 
us — to  call.  We  employed  the  little  leisure  left,  in  going  over  the 
house  together  for  the  last  time.  We  took  leave  of  our  old  school- 
room, our  bedrooms,  the  room  where  our  mother  died,  the  little 
study  where  our  father  used  to  settle  his  accounts  and  write  his  let- 
ters— feeling  toward  them,  in  our  forlorn  situation,  as  other  girls 
might  have  felt  at  parting  with  old  friends.  From  the  house,  in  a 
gleam  of  line  weather,  we  went  into  the  garden,  and  gathered  our 
last  nosegay ;  with  the  purpose  of  drying  the  flowers  when  they  be- 
gin to  wither,  and  keeping  them  in  remembrance  of  the  happy  days 
that  are  gone.  When  we  had  said  good-bye  to  the  garden,  there 
was  only  half  an  hour  left.  We  went  together  to  the  grave ;  we 
knelt  down,  side  by  side,  in  silence,  and  kissed  the  sacred  ground. 
I  thought  my  heart  would  have  broken.  August  was  the  month  of 
my  mother's  birthday ;  and,  this  time  last  year,  my  father  and  Mag- 
dalen and  I  were  all  consulting  in  secret  what  present  we  could 
make  to  surprise  her  with  on  the  birthday  morning. 

"If  you  had  seen  how  Magdalen  suffered,  you  would  never  doubt 
her  again.  I  had  to  take  her  from  the  last  resting-place  of  our  fa- 
ther and  mother  almost  by  force.  Before  we  were  out  of  the  church- 
yard, she  broke  from  me,  and  ran  back.  She  dropped  on  her  knees 
at  the  grave ;  tore  up  from  it  passionately  a  handful  of  grass ;  and 
soul  something  to  herself,  at  the  same  moment,  which,  though  I  fol- 
lowed her  instantly,  I  did  not  get  near  enough  to  hear.  She  turned 
on  me  in  such  a  frenzied  manner,  when  I  tried  to  raise  her  from  the 


NO   NAME.  153 

ground — she  looked  at  mo  with  such  a  fearful  wildncss  in  her  eyes 
— that  I  felt  absolutely  terrified  at  the  sight  of  her.  To  my  relief, 
the  paroxysm  left  her  as  suddenly  as  it  had  come.  She  thrust  away 
the  tuft  of  grass  into  the  bosom  of  her  dress,  and  took  my  arm  and 
hurried  with  me  out  of  the  church-yard.  I  asked  her  why  she  had 
gone  back — I  asked  what  those  words  were  which  she  had  spoken 
at  the  grave.  'A  promise  to  our  dead  father,'  she  answered,  with  a 
momentary  return  of  the  wild  look  and  the  frenzied  manner  which 
had  startled  me  already.  I  was  afraid  to  agitate  her  by  saying 
more  ;  I  left  all  other  questions  to  be  asked  at  a  titter  and  a  quieter 
time.  You  wdll  understand  from  this  how  terribly  she  suffers,  how 
wildly  and  strangely  she  acts  under  violent  agitation;  and  you  will 
not  interpret  against  her  what  she  said  or  did  when  you  saw  her  on 
Wednesday  last. 

"  We  only  returned  to  the  house  in  time  to  hasten  away  from  it  to 
the  train.  Perhaps  it  was  better  for  us  so — better  that  we  had  only 
a  moment  left  to  look  back,  before  the  turn  in  the  road  hid  the  last 
of  Combe-Raven  from  our  view.  There  was  not  a  soul  we  knew  at 
the  station;  nobody  to  stare  at  us,  nobody  to  wish  us  good-bye. 
The  rain  came  on  again  as  we  took  our  seats  in  the  train.  What  we 
felt  at  the  sight  of  the  railway — what  horrible  remembrances  it 
forced  on  our  minds  of  the  calamity  which  has  made  us  fatherless — 
I  can  not,  and  dare  not,  tell  you.  I  have  tried  anxiously  not  to 
write  this  letter  in  a  gloomy  tone ;  not  to  return  all  your  kindness 
to  us  by  distressing  you  with  our  grief.  Perhaps  I  have  dwelt  too 
long  already  on  the  little  story  of  our  parting  from  home  ?  I  can 
only  say,  in  excuse,  that  my  heart  is  full  of  it ;  and  what  is  not  in 
my  heart  my  pen  won't  write. 

"  We  have  been  so  short  a  time  in  our  new  abode,  that  I  have 
nothing  more  to  tell  you — except  that  Miss  Garth's  sister  has  re- 
ceived us  with  the  heartiest  kindness.  She  considerately  leaves  us 
to  ourselves,  until  we  are  fitter  than  we  are  now  to  think  of  our 
future  plans,  and  to  arrange  as  we  best  can  for  earning  our  own  liv- 
ing. The  house  is  so  large,  and  the  position  of  our  rooms  has  been 
so  thoughtfully  chosen,  that  I  should  hardly  know — except  when  I 
hear  the  laughing  of  the  younger  girls  in  the  garden — that  we  were 
living  in  a  school. 

"  With  kindest  and  best  wishes  from  Miss  Garth  and  my  sister, 
believe  me,  dear  Mr.  Pendril,  gratefully  yours, 

"  NORAH  VANSTONE." 


154  NO   NAME. 

n. 

From  Miss  Garth  to  Mr.  Pendril. 

"  Westmoreland  House,  Kensington, 
"September  23d,  1846. 

"  My  dear  Sir, — I  write  these  lines  in  such  misery  of  mind  as  no 
words  can  describe.  Magdalen  has  deserted  us.  At  an  early  hour 
this  morning  she  secretly  left  the  house,  and  she  has  not  been  heard 
of  since. 

"  I  would  come  and  speak  to  you  personally ;  but  I  dare  not 
leave  Norah.     I  must  try  to  control  myself;  I  must  try  to  write. 

'"  Nothing  happened  yesterday  to  prepare  me  or  to  prepare  Norah 
for  this  last — I  had  almost  said,  this  worst — of  all  our  afflictions. 
The  only  alteration  we  either  of  us  noticed  in  the  unhappy  girl  was 
an  alteration  for  the  better  when  we  parted  for  the  night.  She 
kissed  me,  which  she  has  not  done  latterly ;  and  she  burst  out  cry- 
ing when  she  embraced  her  sister  next.  We  had  so  little  suspicion 
of  the  truth,  that  we  thought  these  signs  of  renewed  tenderness  and 
affection  a  promise  of  better  things  for  the  future. 

"  This  morning,  when  her  sister  went  into  her  room,  it  was  emp- 
ty, and  a  note  in  her  handwriting,  addressed  to  Norah,  was  lying 
on  the  dressing-table.  I  can  not  prevail  on  Norah  to  part  with  the 
note ;  I  can  only  send  you  the  inclosed  copy  of  it.  You  will  see 
that  it  affords  no  clue  to  the  direction  she  has  taken. 

"  Knowing  the  value  of  time,  in  this  dreadful  emergency,  I  ex- 
amined her  room,  and  (with  my  sister's  help)  questioned  the  serv- 
ants, immediately  on  the  news  of  her  absence  reaching  me.  Her 
wardrobe  was  empty ;  and  all  her  boxes  but  one,  which  she  has  evi- 
dently taken  away  with  her,  are  empty  too.  We  are  of  opinion  that 
she  has  privately  turned  her  dresses  and  jewelry  into  money ;  that 
she  had  the  one  trunk  she  took  with  her  removed  from  the  house 
yesterday ;  and  that  she  left  us  this  morning  on  foot.  The  answers 
given  by  one  of  the  servants  are  so  unsatisfactory,  that  we  believe 
the  woman  has  been  bribed  to  assist  her;  and  has  managed  all 
those  arrangements  for  her  flight  which  she  could  not  have  safely 
undertaken  by  herself. 

"  Of  the  immediate  object  with  which  she  has  left  us,  I  entertain 
no  doubt. 

"  I  have  reasons  (which  I  can  tell  you  at  a  fitter  time)  for  feeling 
assured  that  she  has  gone  away  with  the  intention  of  trying  her 
fortune  on  the  stage.  She  has  in  her  possession  the  card  of  an  actor 
by  profession,  who  superintended  an  amateur  theatrical  performance 
at  Clifton,  in  which  she  took  part ;  and  to  him  she  has  gone  to  help 
her.  I  saw  the  card  at  the  time,  and  I  know  the  actor's  name  to  be 
Huxtable.     The  address  I  can  not  call  to  mind  quite  so  correctly,- 


NO    NAME.  155 

but  I  am  almost  sure  it  was  at  some  theatrical  place  in  Bow  Street, 
Covent  Garden.  Let  me  entreat  you  hot  to  lose  a  moment  in  send- 
ing to  make  the  necessary  inquiries;  the  first  trace  of  her  will,  I 
firmly  believe,  be  found  at  that  address. 

"If  we  had  nothing  worse  to  dread  than  her  attempting  to  go  on 
the  stage,  I  should  not  feel  the  distress  and  dismay  which  now  over- 
power me.  Hundreds  of  other  girls  have  acted  as  recklessly  as  she 
has  acted,  and  have  not  ended  ill  after  all.  But  my  fears  for  Mag- 
dalen do  not  begin  and  end  with  the  risk  she  is  running  at  present. 

"  There  has  been  something  weighing  on  her  mind  ever  since  we 
left  Combe-Raven — weighing  tar  more  heavily  for  the  last  six  weeks 
than  at  first.  Until  the  period  when  Francis  Clare  left  England,  I 
am  persuaded  she  was  secretly  sustained  by  the  hope  that  he  would 
contrive  to  see  her  again.  From  the  day  when  she  knew  that  the 
measures  you  had  taken  for  preventing  this  had  succeeded;  from 
the  day  when  she  was  assured  that  the  ship  had  really  taken  him 
away,  nothing  has  roused,  nothing  has  interested  her.  She  has 
given  herself  up,  more  and  more  hopelessly,  to  her  own  brooding 
thoughts;  thoughts  which  I  believe  first  entered  her  mind  on  the 
day  when  the  utter  ruin  of  the  prospects  on  which  her  marriage  de- 
pended was  made  known  to  her.  She  has  formed  some  desperate 
project  of  contesting  the  possession  of  her  father's  fortune  with 
Michael  Vanstone ;  and  the  stage  career  which  she  has  gone  away 
to  try  is  nothing  more  than  a  means  of  freeing  herself  from  all  home 
dependence,  and  of  enabling  her  to  run  what  mad  risks  she  pleases, 
in  perfect  security  from  all  home  control.  What  it  costs  me  to 
write  of  her  in  these  terms,  I  must  leave  you  to  imagine.  The  time 
has  gone  by  when  any  consideration  of  distress  to  my  own  feelings 
can  weigh  with  me.  Whatever  I  can  say  which  will  open  your  eyes 
to  the  real  danger,  and  strengthen  your  conviction  of  the  instant 
necessity  of  averting  it,  I  say  in  despite  of  myself,  without  hesitation 
and  without  reserve. 

"  One  word  more,  and  I  have  done. 

"  The  last  time  you  were  so  good  as  to  come  to  this  house,  do  you 
remember  how  Magdalen  embarrassed  and  distressed  us  by  question- 
ing you  about  her  right  to  bear  her  father's  name  ?  Do  you  remem- 
ber her  persisting  in  her  inquiries,  until  she  had  forced  you  to  ac- 
knowledge that,  legally  speaking,  she  and  her  sister  had  No  Name  ? 
I  venture  to  remind  you  of  this,  because  you  have  the  affairs  of  hun- 
dreds of  clients  to  think  of,  and  you  might  well  have  forgotten  the 
circumstance.  Whatever  natural  reluctance  she  might  otherwise 
have  had  to  deceiving  us,  and  degrading  herself,  by  the  use  of  an 
assumed  name,  that  conversation  with  you  is  certain  to  have  re- 
moved. We  must  discover  her  by  personal  description —  we  can 
trace  her  in  no  other  way. 


156  NO   NAME. 

"  I  can  think  of  nothing  more  to  guide  your  decision  in  our  de- 
plorable emergency.  For  God's  sake,  let  no  expense  and  no  efforts 
be  spared.  My  letter  ought  to  reach  you  by  ten  o'clock  this  morn- 
ing, at  the  latest.  Let  me  have  one  line  in  answer,  to  say  you  will 
act  instantly  for  the  best.  My  only  hope  of  quieting  Norah  is  to 
show  her  a  word  of  encouragement  from  your  pen.  Believe  me. 
dear  sir,  yours  sincerely  and  obliged,  Harriet  Garth.'' 

III. 

From  Magdalen  to  Norah  {inclosed  in  the  preceding  Letter). 

"My  Darling, — Try  to  forgive  me.  I  have  struggled  against 
myself  till  I  am  worn  out  in  the  effort.  I  am  the  wretchedest  of 
living  creatures.  Our  quiet  Life  here  maddens  me  ;  I  can  bear  it  no 
longer ;  I  must  go.  If  you  knew  what  my  thoughts  are ;  if  you 
knew  how  hard  I  have  fought  against  them,  and  how  horribly  they 
have  gone  on  haunting  me  in  the  lonely  quiet  of  this  house,  you 
would  pity  and  forgive  me.  Oh,  my  love,  don't  feel  hurt  at  my  not 
opening  my  heart  to  you  as  I  ought !  I  dare  not  open  it.  I  dare 
not  show  myself  to  you  as  I  really  am. 

"  Pray  don't  send  and  seek  after  me ;  I  will  write  and  relieve  all 
your  anxieties.  You  know,  Norah,  we  must  get  our  living  for  our- 
selves ;  I  have  only  gone  to  get  mine  in  the  manner  which  is  fittest 
for  me.  Whether  I  succeed,  or  whether  I  fail,  I  can  do  myself  no 
harm  either  way.  I  have  no  position  to  lose,  and  no  name  to  de- 
grade. Don't  doubt  I  love  you — don't  let  Miss  Garth  doubt  my 
gratitude.  I  go  away  miserable  at  leaving  you ;  but  I  must  go.  If 
I  had  loved  you  less  dearly,  I  might  have  had  the  courage  to  say 
this  in  your  presence — but  how  could  I  trust  myself  to  resist  your 
persuasions,  and  to  bear  the  sight  of  your  distress  ?  Farewell,  my 
darling!  Take  a  thousand  kisses  from  me,  my  own  best,  dearest 
love,  till  we  meet  again.  Magdalen." 

rv. 

From  Sergeant  Buhner  {of  the  Detective  Police)  to  Mr.  Pendril. 

"Scotland  Yard,  September  29th,  184C. 

"  Sir, — Your  clerk  informs  me  that  the  parties  interested  in  our 
inquiry  after  the  missing  young  lady  are  anxious  for  news  of  the 
same.  I  went  to  your  office  to  speak  to  you  about  tne  matter  to- 
day. Not  having  found  you,  and  not  being  able  to  return  and  try 
again  to-morrow,  I  write  these  lines  to  save  delay,  and  to  tell  you 
how  we  stand  thus  far. 

"  I  am  sorry  to  say,  no  advance  has  been  made  since  my  former 
report.    The  trace  of  the  young  lady  which  we  found  nearly  a  week 


NO    NAME.  157 

since,  still  remains  the  last  trace  discovered  of  her.  This  case  seems 
a  mighty  simple  one  looked  at  from  a  distance.  Looked  at  close, 
it  alters  very  considerably  for  the  worse,  and  becomes,  to  speak  the 
plain  truth — a  Poser. 

"  This  is  how  we  now  stand : 

"  We  have  traced  the  young  lady  to  the  theatrical  agent's  in  Bow 
Street.  We  know  that  at  an  early  hour  on  the  morning  of  the 
twenty-third  the  agent  was  called  down  stairs,  while  he  was  dress 
ing,  to  speak  to  a  young  lady  in  a  cab  at  the  door.  We  know  that, 
on  her  production  of  Mr.  Huxtable's  card,  he  wrote  on  it  Mr.  Hux 
table's  address  in  the  country,  and  heard  her  order  the  cabman  to 
drive  to  the  Great  Northern  terminus.  We  believe  she  left  by  the 
nine  o'clock  train.  We  followed  her  by  the  twelve  o'clock  train. 
We  have  ascertained  that  she  called  at  half-past  two  at  Mr.  Huxta- 
ble's lodgings ;  that  she  found  he  was  away,  and  not  expected  back 
till  eight  in  the  evening ;  that  she  left  word  she  would  call  again  at 
eight ;  and  that  she  never  returned.  Mr.  Huxtable's  statement  is — 
he  and  the  young  lady  have  never  set  eyes  on  each  other.  The  first 
consideration  which  follows,  is  this:  Are  we  to  believe  Mr.  Huxta- 
ble  ?  I  have  carefully  incpiired  into  his  character;  I  know  as  much, 
or  more,  about  him  than  he  knows  about  himself;  and  my  opinion 
is,  that  we  are  to  believe  him.  To  the  best  of  my  knowledge,  he  is 
a  perfectly  honest  man. 

"  Here,  then,  is  the  hitch  in  the  case.  The  young  lady  sets  out 
with  a  certain  object  before  her.  Instead  of  going  on  to  the  ac- 
complishment of  that  object,  she  stops  short  of  it.  Why  has  she 
stopped  ?  and  where  ?  Those  are,  unfortunately,  just  the  questions 
which  we  can't  answer  yet. 

"  My  own  opinion  of  the  matter  is,  briefly,  as  follows :  I  don't 
think  she  has  met  with  any  serious  accident.  Serious  accidents,  in 
nine  cases  out  of  ten,  discover  themselves.  My  own  notion  is,  that 
she  has  fallen  into  the  hands  of  some  person  or  persons  interested 
in  hiding  her  away,  and  sharp  enough  to  know  how  to  set  about  it. 
Whether  she  is  in  their  charge,  with  or  without  her  own  consent,  is 
more  than  I  can  undertake  to  say  at  present.  I  don't  wish  to  raise 
false  hopes  or  false  fears ;  I  wish  to  stop  short  at  the  opinion  I  have 
given  already. 

"  In  regard  to  the  future,  I  may  tell  you  that  I  have  left  one  of 
my  men  in  daily  communication  with  the  authorities.  I  have  also 
taken  care  to  have  the  handbills  offering  a  reward  for  the  discovery 
of  her  widely  circulated.  Lastly,  I  have  completed  the  necessary 
arrangements  for  seeing  the  play-bills  of  all  country  theatres,  and  for 
having  the  dramatic  companies  well  looked  after.  Some  years  since, 
this  would  have  cost  a  serious  expenditure  of  time  and  money. 
Luckily  for  our  purpose,  the  country  theatres  are  in  a  bad  way. 


158  NO    NAME. 

Excepting  the  large  cities,  hardly  one  of  them  is  open,  and  we  can 
keep  our  eye  on  them,  with  little  expense  and  less  difficulty. 

"  These  are  the  steps  which  I  think  it  needful  to  take  at  present. 
If  you  are  of  another  opinion,  you  have  only  to  give  me  your  direc- 
tions, and  I  will  carefully  attend  to  the  same.  I  don't  by  any  means 
despair  of  our  finding  the  young  lady  and  bringing  her  back  to  her 
friends  safe  and  well.  Please  to  tell  them  so ;  and  allow  me  to  sub- 
scribe myself,  yours  respectfully,  Abraham  Bulmer." 


Anonymous  Letter  addressed  to  Mr.  Pendril. 

"  Sir, — A  word  to  the  wise.  The  friends  of  a  certain  young  lady 
are  wasting  time  and  money  to  no  purpose.  Your  confidential 
clerk  and  your  detective  policeman  are  looking  for  a  needle  in  a 
bottle  of  hay.  This  is  the  ninth  of  October,  and  they  have  not 
found  her  yet :  they  will  as  soon  find  the  North-west  Passage.  Call 
your  dogs  off;  and  you  may  hear  of  the  young  lady's  safety  under 
her  own  hand.  The  longer  you  look  for  her,  the  longer  she  will 
remain,  what  she  is  now — lost." 


[The  preceding  letter  is  thus  indorsed,  in  Mr.  Pendril's  hand- 
writing :  "  No  apparent  means  of  tracing  the  inclosed  to  its  source. 
Post-mark,  '  Charing  Cross.'  Stationer's  stamp  cut  off  the  inside 
of  the  envelope.  Handwriting,  probably  a  man's,  in  disguise. 
Writer,  whoever  he  is,  correctly  informed.  No  further  trace  of  the 
younger  Miss  Vanstone  discovered  yet."] 


NO   NAME.  159 


THE  SECOND  SCENE. 

SKELDERGATE,  YORK. 


CHAPTER  I. 

In  that  part  of  the  city  of  York  which  is  situated  on  the  western 
bank  of  the  Ouse  there  is  a  narrow  street,  called  Skeldergate,  run- 
ning nearly  north  and  south,  parallel  with  the  course  of  the  river. 
The  postern  by  which  Skeldergate  was  formerly  approached  no 
longer  exists ;  and  the  few  old  houses  left  in  the  street  are  dis- 
guised in  melancholy  modern  costume  of  whitewash  and  cement. 
Shops  of  the  smaller  and  poorer  order,  intermixed  here  and  there 
with  dingy  warehouses  and  joyless  private  residences  of  red  brick, 
compose  the  present  aspect  of  Skeldergate.  On  the  river-side  the 
houses  are  separated  at  intervals  by  lanes  running  down  to  the 
water,  and  disclosing  lonely  little  plots  of  open  ground,  with  the 
masts  of  sailing-barges  rising  beyond.  At  its  southward  extremity 
the  street  ceases  on  a  sudden,  and  the  broad  flow  of  the  Ouse,  the 
trees,  the  meadows,  the  public-walk  on  one  bank  and  the  towing- 
path  on  the  other,  open  to  view. 

Here,  where  the  street  ends,  and  on  the  side  of  it  farthest  from 
the  river,  a  narrow  little  lane  leads  up  to  the  paved  footway  sur- 
mounting the  ancient  Walls  of  Yrork.  The  one  small  row  of  build- 
ings, which  is  all  that  the  lane  possesses,  is  composed  of  cheap 
lodging-houses,  with  an  opposite  view,  at  the  distance  of  a  few  feet, 
of  a  portion  of  the  massive  city  wall.  This  place  is  called  Rosemary 
Lane.  Very  little  light  enters  it ;  very  few  people  live  in  it ;  the 
floating  population  of  Skeldergate  passes  it  by ;  and  visitors  to  the 
Walk  on  the  Walls,  who  use  it  as  the  way  up  or  the  way  down,  get 
out  of  the  dreary  little  passage  as  fast  as  they  can. 

The  door  of  one  of  the  houses  in  this  lost  corner  of  York  opened 
softly  on  the  evening  of  the  twenty-third  of  September,  eighteen 
hundred  and  forty-six ;  and  a  solitary  individual  of  the  male  sex 
sauntered  into  Skeldergate  from  the  seclusion  of  Rosemary  Lane. 

Turning  northward,  this  person  directed  his  steps  toward  the 
bridge  over  the  Ouse  and  the  busy  centre  of  the  city.  He  bore  the 
external  apjjearance  of  respectable  poverty ;  he  carried  a  gingham 
umbrella,  preserved  in  an  oilskin  case ;  he  picked  his  steps,  with 
the  neatest  avoidance  of  all  dirty  places  on  the  pavement ;  and  he 


160  NO    NAME. 

surveyed  the  scene  around  him  with  eyes  of  two  different  colors— 
a  bilious  brown  eye  on  the  look-out  for  employment,  and  a  bilious 
green  eye  in  a  similar  predicament.  In  plainer  terms,  the  stranger 
from  Rosemary  Lane  was  no  other  than — Captain  Wragge. 

Outwardly  speaking,  the  captain  had  not  altered  for  the  better 
since  the  memorable  spring  day  when  he  had  presented  himself  to 
Miss  Garth  at  the  lodge-gate  at  Combe-Raven.  The  railway  mania 
of  that  famous  year  had  attacked  even  the  wary  Wragge ;  had  with- 
drawn him  from  his  customary  pursuits ;  and  had  left  him  prostrate 
in  the  end,  like  many  a  better  man.  He  had  lost  his  clerical  ap- 
pearance— he  had  faded  with  the  autumn  leaves.  His  crape  hat- 
band had  put  itself  in  brown  mourning  for  its  own  bereavement  of 
black.  His  dingy  white  collar  and  cravat  had  died  the  death  of 
old  linen,  and  had  gone  to  their  long  home  at  the  jiaper-maker's,  to 
live  again  one  day  in  quires  at  a  stationer's  shop.  A  gray  shooting- 
jacket  in  the  last  stage  of  woolen  atrophy  replaced  the  black  frock- 
coat  of  former  times,  and,  like  a  faithful  servant,  kept  the  dark 
secret  of  its  master's  linen  from  the  eyes  of  a  prying  world.  From 
top  to  toe  every  square  inch  of  the  captain's  clothing  was  altered 
for  the  worse ;  but  the  man  himself  remained  unchanged — superior 
to  all  forms  of  moral  mildew,  impervious  to  the  action  of  social  rust. 
He  was  as  courteous,  as  persuasive,  as  blandly  dignified  as  ever. 
He  carried  his  head  as  high  without  a  shirt-collar  as  ever  he  had 
carried  it  with  one.  The  threadbare  black  handkerchief  round  his 
neck  was  perfectly  tied ;  his  rotten  old  shoes  were  neatly  blacked ; 
he  might  have  compared  chins,  in  the  matter  of  smooth  shaving,  with 
the  highest  church  dignitary  in  York.  Time,  change,  and  poverty 
had  all  attacked  the  captain  together,  and  had  all  failed  alike  to 
get  him  down  on  the  ground.  He  paced  the  streets  of  York,  a  man 
superior  to  clothes  and  circumstances — his  vagabond  varnish  as 
bright  on  him  as  ever. 

Arrived  at  the  bridge,  Captain  Wragge  stopped  and  looked  idly 
over  the  parapet  at  the  barges  in  the  river.  It  was  plainly  evident 
that  he  had  no  particular  destination  to  reach,  and  nothing  what- 
ever to  do.  While  he  was  still  loitering,  the  clock  of  York  Minster 
chimed  the  half-hour  past  five.  Cabs  rattled  by  him  over  the  bridge 
on  their  way  to  meet  the  train  from  London,  at  twenty  minutes  to 
six.  After  a  moment's  hesitation,  the  captain  sauntered  after  the 
cabs.  When  it  is  one  of  a  man's  regular  habits  to  live  upon  his  fel- 
low-creatures, that  man  is  always  more  or  less  fond  of  haunting 
large  railway  stations.  Captain  Wragge  gleaned  the  human  field, 
and  on  that  unoccupied  afternoon  the  York  terminus  was  as  likely 
a  corner  to  look  about  in  as  any  other. 

He  reached  the  platform  a  few  minutes  after  the  train  had  ar- 
rived.    That  entire  incapability  of  devising  administrative  measures 


NO   NAME.  161 

for  the  management  of  large  crowds,  which  is  one  of  the  character- 
istics of  Englishmen  in  authority,  is  nowhere  more  strikingly  ex- 
emplified than  at  York.  Three  different  lines  of  railway  assemble 
three  passenger  mobs,  from  morning  to  night,  under  one  roof;  and 
leave  them  to  raise  a  traveler's  riot,  with  all  the  assistance  which 
the  bewildered  servants  of  the  company  can  render  to  increase  the 
confusion.  The  customary  disturbance  was  rising  to  its  climax  as 
Captain  Wragge  approached  the  platform.  Dozens  of  different  peo^ 
pie  were  trying  to  attain  dozens  of  different  objects,  in  dozens  of 
different  directions,  all  starting  from  the  same  common  point,  and 
all  equally  deprived  of  the  means  of  information.  A  sudden  parting 
of  the  crowd,  near  the  second-class  carriages,  attracted  the  captain's 
curiosity.  He  pushed  his  way  in  ;  and  found  a  decently-dressed 
man — assisted  by  a  porter  and  a  policeman — attempting  to  pick  up 
some  printed  bills  scattered  from  a  paper  parcel,  which  his  frenzied 
fellow-passengers  had  knocked  out  of  his  hand. 

Offering  his  assistance  in  this  emergency,  with  the  polite  alacrity 
which  marked  his  character,  Captain  Wragge  observed  the  three 
startling  words,  "  Fifty  Pounds  Reward,"  printed  in  capital  letters 
on  the  bills  which  he  assisted  in  recovering ;  and  instantly  secreted 
one  of  them,  to  be  more  closely  examined  at  the  first  convenient  op- 
portunity. As  he  crumpled  up  the  bill  in  the  palm  of  his  hand,  his 
party-colored  eyes  fixed  with  hungry  interest  on  the  proprietor  of 
the  unlucky  parcel.  When  a  man  happens  not  to  be  possessed  of 
fifty  pence  in  his  own  pocket,  if  his  heart  is  in  the  right  place,  it 
bounds ;  if  his  mouth  is  properly  constituted,  it  waters,  at  the  sight 
of  another  man  who  carries  about  with  him  a  printed  offer  of  fifty 
pounds  sterling,  addressed  to  his  fellow-creatures. 

The  unfortunate  traveler  wrapped  up  his  parcel  as  he  best  might, 
and  made  his  way  off  the  platform,  after  addressing  an  inquiry  to 
the  first  official  victim  of  the  day's  passenger-traffic,  who  was  suffi- 
ciently in  possession  of  his  senses  to  listen  to  it.  Leaving  the  sta- 
tion for  the  river-side,  which  was  close  at  hand,  the  stranger  entered 
the  ferry-boat  at  the  North  Street  Postern.  The  captain,  who  had 
carefully  dogged  his  steps  thus  far,  entered  the  boat  also ;  and  em- 
ployed the  short  interval  of  transit  to  the  opposite  bank,  in  a  peru- 
sal of  the  handbill  which  he  had  kept  for  his  own  private  enlight- 
enment. With  his  back  carefully  turned  on  the  traveler,  Captain 
Wragge  now  possessed  his  mind  of  the  following  lines  : 

"fifty  founds  reward. 
"  Left  her  home,  in  London,  early  on  the  morning  of  September 
23d,  1846,  A  Young  Lady.     Age — eighteen.     Dress — deep  mourn- 
ing.    Personal  appearance — hair  of  a  very  light  brown ;  eyebrows 
and  eyelashes  darker ;  eyes  light  gray ;  complexion  strikingly  pale ; 


162  NO    NAME. 

lower  part  of  her  face  large  and  full;  tall  upright  figure;  walks 
with  remarkable  grace  and  ease ;  speaks  with  openness  and  resolu- 
tion ;  has  the  manners  and  habits  of  a  refined,  cultivated  lady.  Per- 
sonal marks — two  little  moles,  close  together,  on  the  left  side  of  the 
neck.  Mark  on  the  under-clothing — '  Magdalen  Vanstone.'  Is  sup- 
posed to  have  joined,  or  attempted  to  join,  under  an  assumed  name, 
a  theatrical  company  now  performing  at  York.  Had,  when  she  left 
London,  one  black  box,  and  no  other  luggage.  Whoever  will  give 
such  information  as  will  restore  her  to  her  friends  shall  receive  the 
above  Reward.  Apply  at  the  office  of  Mr.  Harkness,  solicitor,  Coney 
Street,  York.  Or  to  Messrs.  Wyatt,  Pendril,  and  Gwilt,  Serle  Street, 
Lincoln's  Inn,  London.'1 

Accustomed  as  Captain  Wragge  was  to  keep  the  completest  pos- 
session of  himself  in  all  human  emergencies,  his  own  profound  as- 
tonishment, when  the  course  of  his  reading  brought  him  to  the 
mark  on  the  linen  of  the  missing  young  lady,  betrayed  him  into  an 
exclamation  of  surprise  which  even  startled  the  ferryman.  The 
traveler  was  less  observant ;  his  whole  attention  was  fixed  on  the 
opposite  bank  of  the  river,  and  he  left  the  boat  hastily  the  moment 
it  touched  the  landing-place.  Captain  Wragge  recovered  himself, 
pocketed  the  handbill,  and  followed  his  leader  for  the  second  time. 

The  stranger  directed  his  steps  to  the  nearest  street  which  ran 
down  to  the  river,  compared  a  note  in  his  pocket-book  with  the 
numbers  of  the  houses  on  the  left-hand  side,  stopped  at  one  of 
them,  and  rang  the  bell.  The  captain  went  on  to  the  next  house; 
affected  to  ring  the  bell,  in  his  turn ;  and  stood  with  his  back  to 
the  traveler — in  appearance,  waiting  to  be  let  in ;  in  reality,  listen 
ing  with  all  his  might  for  any  scraps  of  dialogue  which  might  reach 
his  ears  on  the  opening  of  the  door  behind  him. 

The  door  was  answered  with  all  due  alacrity,  and  a  sufficiently 
instructive  interchange  of  question  and  answer  on  the  threshold  re- 
warded the  dexterity  of  Captain  Wragge. 

"  Does  Mr.  Huxtable  live  here  ?"  asked  the  traveler. 

"  Yes,  sir,"  was  the  answer,  in  a  woman's  voice. 

"Is  he  at  home?" 

"  Not  at  home  now,  sir ;  but  he  will  be  in  again  at  eight  to-night." 

"I  think  a  young  lady  called  here  early  in  the  day,  did  she  not?" 

"  Yes ;  a  young  lady  came  this  afternoon." 

"  Exactly ;  I  come  on  the  same  business.  Did  she  see  Mr.  Hux- 
table ?" 

"  No,  sir ;  he  has  been  away  all  day.  The  young  lady  told  me 
she  would  come  back  at  eight  o'clock." 

"  Just  so.     I  will  call  and  see  Mr.  Huxtable  at  the  same  time." 

"  Any  name,  sir  ?" 


NO    NAME.  163 

"No;  say  a  gentleman  called  on  theatrical  business — that  will  he 
enough.  "Wait  one  minute,  if  you  please.  I  am  a  stranger  in  York ; 
will  you  kindly  tell  me  which  is  the  way  to  Coney  Street  ?" 

The  woman  gave  the  required  information,  the  door  closed,  and 
the  stranger  hastened  away  in  the  direction  of  Coney  Street. 

On  this  occasion  Captain  Wragge  made  no  attempt  to  follow  hiin. 
The  handbill  revealed  plainly  enough  that  the  man's  next  object 
was  to  complete  the  necessary  arrangements  with  the  local  solicitor 
on  the  subject  of  the  promised  reward. 

Having  seen  and  heard  enough  for  his  immediate  pur.pose,  the 
captain  retraced  his  steps  down  the  street,  turned  to  the  right,  and 
entered  on  the  Esplanade,  which,  in  that  quarter  of  the  city,  borders 
the  river -side  between  the  swimming-baths  and  Lendal  Tower. 
"  This  is  a  family  matter,"  said  Captain  Wragge  to  himself,  persist- 
ing, froin  sheer  force  of  habit,  in  the  old  assertion  of  his  relationship 
to  Magdalen's  mother;  "  I  must  consider  it  in  all  its  bearings."  He 
tucked  the  umbrella  under  his  arm,  crossed  his  hands  behind  him, 
and  lowered  himself  gently  into  the  abyss  of  his  own  reflections. 
The  order  and  projmety  observable  in  the  captain's  shabby  gar- 
ments accurately  typified  the  order  and  propriety  which  distin- 
guished the  operations  of  the  captain's  mind.  It  was  his  habit  al- 
ways to  see  his  way  before  him  through  a  neat  succession  of  alter- 
natives— and  so  he  saw  it  now. 

Three  courses  were  open  to  him  in  connection  with  the  remark- 
able discovery  which  he  had  just  made.  The  first  course  was  to 
do  nothing  in  the  matter  at  all.  Inadmissible,  on  family  grounds : 
equally  inadmissible  on  pecuniary  grounds :  rejected  accordingly. 
The  second  course  was  to  deserve  the  gratitude  of  the  young  lady's 
friends,  rated  at  fifty  pounds.  The  third  course  was  by  a  timely 
warning,  to  deserve  the  gratitude  of  the  young  lady  herself,  rated 
—at  an  unknown  figure.  Between  these  two  last  alternatives  the 
wary  Wragge  hesitated ;  not  from  doubt  of  Magdalen's  pecuniary 
resources — for  he  was  totally  ignorant  of  the  circumstances  which 
had  deprived  the  sisters  of  their  inheritance — but  from  doubt  wheth- 
er an  obstacle  in  the  shape  of  an  undiscovered  gentleman  might  not 
be  privately  connected  with  her  disappearance  from  home.  After 
mature  reflection,  he  determined  to  pause,  and  be  guided  by  cir- 
cumstances. In  the  mean  time,  the  first  consideration  was  to  be  be- 
forehand with  the  messenger  from  London,  and  to  lay  hands  secure- 
ly on  the  young  lady  herself. 

"  I  feel  for  this  misguided  girl,"  mused  the  captain,  solemnly 
strutting  backward  and  forward  by  the  lonely  river-side.  "I  al- 
ways have  looked  upon  her — I  always  shall  look  upon  her — in  the 
light  of  a  niece." 

Where  was  the  adopted  relative  at  that  moment  ?     In  other  words, 


164  mo  NAME. 

how  was  a  young  lady  in  Magdalen's  critical  position  likely  to 
while  away  the  hours  until  Mr.  Huxtable's  return?  II' there  was  an 
obstructive  gentleman  in  the  background,  it  would  be  mere  waste 
of  time  to  pursue  the  question.  But  if  the  inference  which  the 
handbill  suggested  was  correct — if  she  was  really  alone  at  that  mo- 
ment in  the  city  of  York — where  was  she  likely  to  be  ? 

Not  in  the  crowded  thoroughfares,  to  begin  with.  Not  viewing 
the  objects  of  interest  in  the  Minster,  for  it  was  now  past  the  hour 
at  which  the  cathedral  could  be  seen.  Was  she  in  the  waiting- 
room  at  the  railway  ?  She  would  hardly  run  that  risk.  Was  she 
in  one  of  the  hotels  ?  Doubtful,  considering  that  she  was  entirely 
by  herself.  In  a  pastry-cook's  shop  ?  Far  more  likely.  Driving 
about  in  a  cab  ?  Possible,  certainly ;  but  no  more.  Loitering  away 
the  time  in  some  quiet  locality,  out-of-doors  ?  Likely  enough,  again, 
on  that  line  autumn  evening.  The  captain  paused,  weighed  the 
relative  claims  on  his  attention  of  the  quiet  locality  and  the  pastry- 
cook's sho]) ;  and  decided  for  the  first  of  the  two.  There  was  time 
enough  to  find  her  at  the  pastry-cook's,  to  inquire  after  her  at  the 
principal  hotels,  or,  finally,  to  intercept  her  in  Mr.  Huxtable's  imme- 
diate neighborhood,  from  seven  to  eight.  While  the  light  lasted, 
the  wise  course  was  to  use  it  in  looking  for  her  out-of-doors. 
Where?  The  Esplanade  was  a  quiet  locality:  but  she  was  not 
there — not  on  the  lonely  road  beyond,  which  ran  back  by  the  Ab- 
bey Wall.  Where  next  ?  The  captain  stopped,  looked  across  the 
river,  brightened  under  the  influence  of  a  new  idea,  and  suddenly 
hastened  back  to  the  ferry. 

"  The  Walk  on  the  Walls,"  thought  this  judicious  man,  with  a 
twinkle  of  his  party-colored  eyes.  "  The  quietest  place  in  York ; 
and  the  place  that  every  stranger  goes  to  see." 

In  ten  minutes  more  Captain  Wraggc  was  exploring  the  new  field 
of  search.  He  mounted  to  the  walls  (which  inclose  the  whole  west- 
ern portion  of  the  city)  by  the  North  Street  Postern,  from  which 
the  walk  winds  round,  until  it  ends  again  at  its  southernly  extremi- 
ty, in  the  narrow  passage  of  Rosemary  Lane.  It  was  then  twenty 
minutes  to  seven.  The  sun  had  set  more  than  half  an  hour  since ; 
the  red  light  lay  broad  and  low  in  the  cloudless  western  heaven; 
all  visible  objects  were  softening  in  the  tender  twilight,  but  were 
not  darkening  yet.  The  first  few  lamps  lit  in  the  street  below 
looked  like  faint  little  specks  of  yellow  light,  as  the  captain  started 
on  his  walk  through  one  of  the  most  striking  scenes  which  England 
can  show. 

On  his  right  hand,  as  he  set  forth,  stretched  the  open  country  be- 
yond the  walls — the  rich  green  meadows,  the  boundary-trees  divid- 
ing them,  the  broad  windings  of  the  river  in  the  distance,  the  scat- 
tered buildings  nearer  to  view ;  all  wrapped  in  the  eveniug  stillness, 


NO   NAME.  165 

all  made  beautiful  by  the  eveuing  peace.  On  his  left  hand,  the  ma- 
jestic west  front  of  York  Minster  soared  over  the  city,  and  caught 
the  last  brightest  light  of  heaved  on  the  summits  of  its  lofty  towers. 
Had  this  noble  prospect  tempted  the  lost  girl  to  linger  and  look  at 
it  ?  No ;  thus  far,  not  a  sign  of  her.  The  captain  looked  round  him 
attentively,  and  walked  on. 

He  reached  the  spot  where  the  iron  course  of  the  railroad  strikes 
its  way  through  arches  in  the  old  wall.  He  paused  at  this  place — 
where  the  central  activity  of  a  great  railway  enterprise  beats,  with 
all  the  pulses  of  its  loud-clanging  life,  side  by  side  with  the  dead 
majesty  of  the  past,  deep  under  the  old  historic  stones  which  tell  of 
fortified  York  and  the  sieges  of  two  centuries  since — he  stood  on 
this  spot,  and  searched  for  her  again,  and  searched  in  vain.  Others 
were  looking  idly  down  at  the  desolate  activity  on  the  wilderness 
of  the  iron  rails;  but  she  was  not  among  them.  The  captain 
glanced  doubtfully  at  the  darkening  sky,  and  walked  on. 

He  stopped  again  where  the  postern  of  Micklegate  still  stands, 
and  still  strengthens  the  city  wall  as  of  old.  Here  the  paved  walk 
descends  a  few  steps,  passes  through  the  dark  stone  guard-room  of 
the  ancient  gate,  ascends  again,  and  continues  its  course  southward 
until  the  walls  reach  the  river  once  more.  He  paused,  and  peered 
anxiously  into  the  dim  inner  corners  of  the  old  guard-room.  "Was 
she  waiting  there  for  the  darkness  to  come,  and  hide  her  from  pry- 
ing eyes  ?  No :  a  solitary  workman  loitered  through  the  stone 
chamber;  but  no  other  living  creature  stirred  in  the  place.  The 
captain  mounted  the  steps  which  led  out  from  the  postern,  and 
walked  on. 

He  advanced  some  fifty  or  sixty  yards  along  the  paved  footway ; 
the  outlying  suburbs  of  York  on  one  side  of  him,  a  rope-walk  and 
some  patches  of  kitchen  garden  occupying  a  vacant  strip  of  ground 
on  the  other.  He  advanced  with  eager  eyes  and  quickened  step; 
for  he  saw  before  him  the  lonely  figure  of  a  woman,  standing  by  the 
parapet  of  the  wall,  with  her  face  set  toward  the  westward  view. 
He  approached  cautiously,  to  make  sure  of  her  before  she  turned 
and  observed  him.  There  was  no  mistaking  that  tall  dark  figure, 
as  it  rested  against  the  parapet  with  a  listless  grace.  There  she 
stood,  in  her  long  black  cloak  and  gown,  the  last  dim  light  of  even- 
ing falling  tenderly  on  her  pale,  resolute  young  face.  There  she  stood 
—  not  three  months  since  the  spoiled  darling  of  her  parents;  the 
priceless  treasure  of  the  household,  never  left  unprotected,  never 
trusted  alone  —  there  she  stood  in  the  lovely  dawn  of  her  woman- 
hood, a  castaway  in  a  strange  city,  wrecked  on  the  world  ! 

Vagabond  as  he  was,  the  first  sight  of  her  staggered  even  the 
dauntless  assurance  of  Captain  Wragge.  As  she  slowly  turned  her 
face  and  looked  at  him,  he  raised  his  hat,  with  the  nearest  approach 


166  NO   NAME. 

to  respect  which  a  long  life  of  unblushing  audacity  had  left  him 
capable  of  making. 

"  I  think  I  have  the  honor  of  addressing  the  younger  Miss  Van- 
stone  ?"  he  began.  "  Deeply  gratified,  I  am  sure — for  more  reasons 
than  one." 

She  looked  at  him  with  a  cold  surprise.  No  recollection  of  the 
day  when  he  had  followed  her  sister  and  herself  on  their  way  home 
with  Miss  Garth  rose  in  her  memory,  while  he  now  confronted  her, 
with  his  altered  manner  and  his  altered  dress. 

"  You  are  mistaken,"  she  said,  quietly.  "  You  are  a  perfect  stran- 
ger to  me." 

"  Pardon  me,"  replied  the  captain  ;  "  I  am  a  species  of  relation. 
I  had  the  pleasure  of  seeing  you  in  the  spring  of  the  present  year. 
I  presented  myself  on  that  memorable  occasion  to  an  honored  pre- 
ceptress in  your  late  father's  family.  Permit  me,  under  equally 
agreeable  circumstances,  to  present  myself  to  you.  My  name  is 
Wragge." 

By  this  time  he  had  recovered  complete  possession  of  his  own 
impudence ;  his  party-colored  eyes  twinkled  cheerfully,  and  he  ac- 
companied his  modest  announcement  of  himself  with  a  dancing- 
master's  bow. 

Magdalen  frowned,  and  drew  back  a  step.  The  captain  was  not 
a  man  to  be  daunted  by  a  cold  reception.  He  tucked  his  umbrella 
under  his  arm,  and  jocosely  spelled  his  name  for  her  further  enlight- 
enment. "  w,  n,  a,  double  G,  e — Wragge,"  said  the  captain,  ticking 
off  the  letters  persuasively  on  his  fingers. 

"  I  remember  your  name,"  said  Magdalen.  "  Excuse  me  for  leav- 
ing you  abruptly.     I  have  an  engagement." 

She  tried  to  pass  him,  and  walk  on  northward  toward  the  rail- 
way. He  instantly  met  the  attempt  by  raising  both  hands,  and  dis- 
playing a  pair  of  darned  black  gloves  outspread  in  polite  protest. 

"  Not  that  way,"  he  said ;  "  not  that  way,  Miss  Vanstone,  I  beg 
and  entreat !" 

"  Why  not  ?"  she  asked,  haughtily. 

"  Because,"  answered  the  captain,  "  that  is  the  way  which  leads 
to  Mr.  Huxtable's." 

In  the  ungovernable  astonishment  of  hearing  his  reply,  she  sud- 
denly bent  forward,  and  for  the  first  time  looked  him  close  in  the 
face.  He  sustained  her  suspicious  scrutiny,  with  every  appearance 
of  feeling  highly  gratified  by  it.  "  h,  u,  x — Hux,"  said  the  captain, 
playfully  turning  to  the  old  joke;  "t,  a — ta,  Huxta;  b,  l,  e — ble; 
Huxtable." 

"  What  do  you  know  about  Mr.  Huxtable  ?"  she  asked.  "  What 
do  you  mean  by  mentioning  him  to  me?" 

The  captain';  curly  lip  took  a  new  twist  upward.    He  immediate 


HE    TUCKED    HIS    UMBRELLA   UNDER  HIS   ARM,  AND  JOCOSELY    SPELLED    IKS 
NAME    FOR    HER    FURTHER    ENLIGHTENMENT. 


NO    NAME.  169 

ly  replied,  to  the  best  practical  purpose,  by  producing  the  handbill 
from  his  pocket. 

"There  is  just  light  enough  left,"  he  said,  "for  young  (and  love- 
ly) eyes  to  read  by.  Before  I  enter  upon  the  personal  statement 
which  your  flattering  inquiry  claims  from  me,  pray  bestow  a  mo- 
ment's attention  on  this  Document." 

She  took  the  handbill  from  him.  By  the  last  gleam  of  twilight, 
she  read  the  lines  which  set  a  price  on  her  recovery  —  which  pub- 
lished the  description  of  her  in  pitiless  print,  like  the  description  of 
a  strayed  dog.  No  tender  consideration  had  prepared  her  for  the 
6hock,  no  kind  word  softened  it  to  her  when  it  came.  The  vaga- 
bond, whose  cunning  eyes  watched  her  eagerly  while  she  read,  knew 
no  more  that  the  handbill  which  he  had  stolen  had  only  been  pre- 
pared in  anticipation  of  the  worst,  and  was  only  to  be  publicly  used 
in  the  event  of  all  more  considerable  means  of  tracing  her  being 
tried  in  vain — than  she  knew  it.  The  bill  dropped  from  her  hand ; 
her  face  flushed  deeply.  She  turned  away  from  Captain  Wragge,  as 
if  all  idea  of  his  existence  had  passed  out  of  her  mind. 

"  Oh,  Norah,  Norah  !"  she  said  to  herself,  sorrowfully.  "  After 
the  letter  I  wrote  you — after  the  hard  struggle  I  had  to  go  away! 
Oh,  Norah,  Norah !" 

"  flow  is  Norah  ?"  inquired  the  captain,  with  the  utmost  polite- 
ness. 

She  turned  upon  him  with  an  angry  brightness  in  her  large  gray 
eyes.  "  Is  this  thing  shown  publicly  ?"  she  asked,  stamping  her 
foot  on  it.     "  Is  the  mark  on  my  neck  described  all  over  York  ?" 

"Pray  compose  yourself,"  pleaded  the  persuasive  Wragge.  "At 
present  I  have  every  reason  to  believe  that  you  have  just  perused 
the  only  copy  in  circulation.     Allow  me  to  pick  it  up." 

Before  he  could  touch  the  bill,  she  snatched  it  from  the  pave- 
ment, tore  it  into  fragments,  and  threw  them  over  the  wall. 

"  Bravo  !"  cried  the  captain.  "You  remind  me  of  your  poor  dear 
mother.  The  family  spirit,  Miss  Vanstone.  We  all  inherit  our  hot 
blood  from  my  maternal  grandfather." 

"  How  did  you  come  by  it  V  she  asked,  suddenly. 

"My  dear  creature,  I  have  just  told  you,"  remonstrated  the  cap- 
tain.    "  We  all  come  by  it  from  my  maternal  grandfather." 

"  How  did  you  come  by  that  handbill  ?"  she  repeated,  passion- 
ately. 

"  I  beg  ten  thousand  pardons !  My  head  was  running  on  the 
family  spirit. — How  did  I  come  by  it  ?  Briefly  thus."  Here  Cap- 
tain Wragge  entered  on  his  personal  statement ;  taking  his  custom- 
ary vocal  exercise  through  the  longest  words  of  the  English  lan- 
guage, with  the  highest  elocutionary  relish.  Having,  on  this  rare 
occasion,  nothing  to  gain  by  concealment,  he  departed  from  his 


170  NO    NAME. 

ordinary  habits,  and,  with  the  utmost  amazement  at  the  novelty  of 
his  own  situation,  permitted  himself  to  tell  the  unmitigated  truth. 

The  effect  of  the  narrative  on  Magdalen  by  no  means  fulfilled 
Captain  Wragge's  anticipations  in  relating  it.  She  was  not  startled ; 
she  was  not  irritated ;  she  showed  no  disposition  to  cast  herself  on 
his  mercy,  and  to  seek  his  advice.  She  looked  him  steadily  in  the 
face ;  and  all  she  said,  when  he  had  neatly  rounded  his  last  sen- 
tence, was — ■"  Go  on." 

"  Go  on  ?"  repeated  the  captain.  "  Shocked  to  disappoint  you, 
I  am  sure ;  but  the  fact  is,  I  have  done." 

"  No,  you  have  not,"  she  rejoined ;  "  you  have  left  out  the  end  of 
your  story.  The  ,*nd  of  it  is,  you  came  here  to  look  for  me;  and 
you  mean  to  earn  the  fifty  pounds  reward." 

Those  plain  words  so  completely  staggered  Captain  Wragge,  that 
for  the  moment  he  stood  speechless.  But  he  had  faced  awkward 
truths  of  all  sorts  far  too  often  to  be  permanently  disconcerted  by 
them.  Before  Magdalen  could  pursue  her  advantage,  the  vagabond 
had  recovered  his  balance  :  Wragge  was  himself  again. 

"  Smart,"  said  the  captain,  laughing  indulgently,  and  drumming 
with  his  umbrella  on  the  pavement.  "  Some  men  might  take  it  se- 
riously.    I'm  not  easily  offended.     Try  again." 

Magdalen  looked  at  him  through  the  gathering  darkness  in  mute 
perplexity.  All  her  little  experience  of  society  had  been  experience 
among  people  who  possessed  a  common  sense  of  honor,  and  a  com- 
mon responsibility  of  social  position.  She  had  hitherto  seen  noth- 
ing but  the  successful  human  product  from  the  great  manufactory 
of  Civilization.  Here  was  one  of  the  failures,  and,  with  all  her 
quickness,  she  was  puzzled  how  to  deal  with  it. 

"  Pardon  me  for  returning  to  the  subject,"  pursued  the  captain. 
"  It  has  just  occurred  to  my  mind  that  you  might  actually  have 
spoken  in  earnest.  My  poor  child  !  how  can  I  earn  the  fifty  pounds 
before  the  reward  is  offered  to  me  ?  Those  handbills  may  not  be 
publicly  posted  for  a  week  to  come.  Precious  as  you  are  to  all  your 
relatives  (myself  included),  take  my  word  for  it,  the  lawyers  who 
are  managing  this  case  will  not  pay  fifty  pounds  for  you  if  they  can 
possibly  help  it.  Are  you  still  persuaded  that  my  needy  pockets 
are  gaping  for  the  money  ?  Very  good.  Button  them  up  in  spite 
of  me,  with  your  own  fair  fingers.  There  is  a  train  to  London  at 
nine  forty-five  to-night.  Submit  yourself  to  your  friend's  wishes, 
and  go  back  by  it." 

"  Never !"  said  Magdalen,  firing  at  the  bare  suggestion,  exactly 
as  the  captain  had  intended  she  should.  "  If  my  mind  had  not 
been  made  up  before,  that  vile  handbill  would  have  decided  me.  I 
forgive  Norah,"  she  added,  turning  away,  and  speaking  to  herself 
"  but  not  Mr.  Pendril,  and  not  Miss  Garth." 


NO    NAME.  1  71 

"  Quite  right !"  observed  Captain  Wragge.  "  The  family  spirit. 
I  should  have  done  the  same  myself  at  your  age.  It  runs  in  the 
blood.  Hark  !  there  goes  the  clock  again — half-past  seven.  Miss 
Vanstone,  pardon  this  seasonable  abruptness  !  If  you  are  to  carry 
out  your  resolution — if  you  are  to  be  your  own  mistress  much  long- 
er, you  must  take  a  course  of  some  kind  before  eight  o'clock.  You 
are  young,  you  are  inexperienced,  you  are  in  imminent  danger. 
Here  is  a  position  of  emergency  on  one  side — and  here  am  I,  on  the 
other,  with  an  uncle's  interest  in  you,  full  of  advice.     Tap  me." 

"  Suppose  I  choose  to  depend  on  nobody,  and  to  act  for  myself?" 
said  Magdalen.     "  What  then  ?" 

"  Then,"  replied  the  captain,  "  you  will  walk  straight  into  one  of 
the  four  traps  which  are  set  to  catch  you  in  the  ancient  and  inter- 
esting city  of  York.  Trap  the  first,  at  Mr.  Huxtable's  house ;  trap 
the  second,  at  all  the  hotels ;  trap  the  third,  at  the  railway  station ; 
trap  the  fourth,  at  the  theatre.  That  man  with  the  handbills  has 
had  an  hour  at  his  disposal.  If  he  has  not  set  those  four  traps 
(with  the  assistance  of  the  local  solicitor)  by  this  time,  he  is  not, 
the  competent  lawyer's  clerk  I  take  him  for.  Come,  come,  my  dear 
girl !  if  there  is  somebody  else  iu  the  background,  whose  advice 
you  prefer  to  mine — " 

"  You  see  that  I  am  alone,"  she  interposed,  proudly.  "  If  you 
knew  me  better,  you  would  know  that  I  depend  on  nobody  but  my- 
self." 

Those  words  decided  the  only  doubt  which  now  remained  in  the 
captain's  mind — the  doubt  whether  the  course  was  clear  before  him. 
The  motive  of  her  flight  from  home  was  evidently  what  the  hand- 
bills assumed  it  to  be  —  a  reckless  fancy  for  going  on  the  stage. 
"  One  of  two  things,"  thought  Wragge  to  himself,  in  his  logical  way. 
"  She's  worth  more  than  fifty  pounds  to  me  in  her  present  situation, 
or  she  isn't.  If  she  is,  her  Mends  may  whistle  for  her.  If  she  isn't, 
I  have  only  to  keep  her  till  the  bills  are  posted."  Fortified  by  this 
simple  plan  of  action,  the  caiitain  returned  to  the  charge,  and  polite- 
ly placed  Magdalen  between  the  two  inevitable  alternatives  of  trust- 
ing herself  to  him,  on  the  one  hand,  or  of  returning  to  her  friends, 
on  the  other. 

"  I  resjject  independence  of  character  wherever  I  find  it,"  he  said, 
with  an  air  of  virtuous  severity.  "  In  a  young  and  lovely  relative,  I 
more  than  respect — I  admire  it.  But  (excuse  the  bold  assertion),  to 
walk  on  a  way  of  your  own,  you  must  first  have  a  way  to  walk  on. 
Under  existing  circumstances,  where  is  your  way  ?  Mr.  Huxtable  is 
out  of  the  question,  to  begin  with." 

"  Out  of  the  question  for  to-night,"  said  Magdalen ;  "  but  what 
hinders  me  from  writing  to  Mr.  Huxtable,  and  making  my  own  pri- 
vate arrangements  with  him  for  to-morrow  ?" 


172  NO   NAME. 

"  Granted  with  all  my  heart — a  hit,  a  palpable  hit.  Now  for  my 
turn.  To  get  to  to-morrow  (excuse  the  bold  assertion,  once  more), 
you  must  first  pass  through  to-night.     Where  are  you  to  sleep  V 

"Are  there  no  hotels  in  York  ?" 

"  Excellent  hotels  for  large  families ;  excellent  hotels  for  single 
gentlemen.  The  very  worst  hotels  in  the  world  for  handsome  young 
ladies  who  present  themselves  alone  at  the  door  without  male  escort, 
without  a  maid  in  attendance,  and  without  a  single  article  of  lug- 
gage. Dark  as  it  is,  I  think  I  could  see  a  lady's  box,  if  there  was 
any  thing  of  the  sort  in  our  immediate  neighborhood." 

"  My  box  is  at  the  cloak-room.  What  is  to  prevent  my  sending 
the  ticket  for  it  ?" 

u  Nothing — if  you  want  to  communicate  your  address  by  means 
of  your  box — nothing  whatever.  Think  ;  pray  think  !  Do  you  re- 
ally suppose  that  the  people  who  are  looking  for  you  are  such  fools 
as  not  to  have  an  eye  on  the  cloak-room  ?  Do  you  think  they  are 
such  fools  —  when  they  find  you  don't  come  to  Mr.  Huxtable's  at 
eight  to-night — as  not  to  inquire  at  all  the  hotels  ?  Do  you  think  a 
young  lady  of  your  striking  appearance  (even  if  they  consented  to 
receive  you)  could  take  up  her  abode  at  an  inn  without  becoming 
the  subject  of  universal  curiosity  and  remark  ?  Here  is  night  com- 
ing on  as  fast  as  it  can.  Don't  let  me  bore  you;  only  let  me  ask 
once  more — Where  are  you  to  sleep  ?" 

There  was  no  answer  to  that  question:  in  Magdalen's  position, 
there  was  literally  no  answer  to  it  on  her  side.     She  was  silent. 

"  Where  are  you  to  sleep  ?"  repeated  the  captain.  "  The  reply  is 
obvious — under  my  roof.  Mrs.  Wragge  will  be  charmed  to  see  you. 
Look  upon  her  as  your  aunt ;  pray  look  upon  her  as  your  aunt.  The 
landlady  is  a  widow,  the  house  is  close  by,  there  are  no  other  lodg- 
ers, and  there  is  a  bedroom  to  let.  Can  any  thing  be  more  satisfac- 
tory, under  all  the  circumstances  ?  Pray  observe,  I  say  nothing  about 
to-morrow — I  leave  to-morrow  to  you,  and  confine  myself  exclusive- 
ly to  the  night.  I  may,  or  may  not,  command  theatrical  facilities, 
which  I  am  in  a  position  to  offer  you.  Sympathy  and  admiration 
may,  or  may  not,  be  strong  within  me,  when  I  contemplate  the  dash 
and  independence  of  your  character.  Hosts  of  examples  of  bright 
stars  of  the  British  drama,  who  have  begun  their  apprenticeship  to 
the  stage  as  you  are  beginning  yours,  may,  or  may  not,  crowd  on  my 
memory.  These  are  topics  for  the  future.  For  the  present,  I  con- 
fine myself  within  my  strict  range  of  duty.  We  are  within  five  min- 
utes' walk  of  my  present  address.  Allow  me  to  offer  you  my  arm. 
No  ?  You  hesitate  ?  You  distrust  me  ?  Good  heavens  !  is  it  pos- 
sible you  can  have  heard  any  thing  to  my  disadvantage  ?" 

"  Quite  possible,"  said  Magdalen,  without  a  moment's  flinching 
*rom  the  answer. 


NO    NAME.  173 

"  May  I  inquire  the  particulars  ?"  asked  the  captain,  with  the  po- 
litest composure.  "  Don't  spare  my  feelings ;  oblige  me  by  speaking 
out.     In  the  plainest  terms,  now,  what  have  you  heard  <?" 

She  answered  him  with  a  woman's  desperate  disregard  of  conse- 
quences when  she  is  driven  to  bay — she  answered  him  instantly, 

"  I  have  heard  you  are  a  Rogue." 

"  Have  you,  indeed  ?"  said  the  impenetrable  Wragge.  "  A  Rogue  ? 
Well,  I  waive  my  privilege  of  setting  you  right  on  that  point  for  a 
fitter  time.  For  the  sake  of  argument,  let  us  say  I  am  a  Rogue. 
What  is  Mr.  Huxtable  ?" 

"  A  respectable  man,  or  I  should  not  have  seen  him  in  the  house 
where  we  first  met." 

"  Very  good.  Now  observe  !  You  talked  of  writing  to  Mr.  Hux- 
table a  minute  ago.  What  do  you  think  a  respectable  man  is  likely 
to  do  with  a  young  lady  who  openly  acknowledges  that  she  has  run 
away  from  her  home  and  her  friends  to  go  on  the  stage  ?  My  dear 
girl,  on  your  own  showing,  it's  not  a  respectable  man  you  want  in 
your  present  predicament.     It's  a  Rogue — like  me." 

Magdalen  laughed,  bitterly. 

"  There  is  some  truth  in  that,"  s.he  said.  'r  Thank  you  for  recall- 
ing me  to  myselt  and  my  circumstances.  I  have  my  end  to  gain — 
and  who  am  I,  to  pick  and  choose  the  way  of  getting  to  it  ?  It  is 
my  turn  to  beg  pardon  now.  I  have  been  talking  as  if  I  was  a 
young  lady  of  family  and  position.  Absurd !  We  know  better 
than  that,  don't  we,  Captain  Wragge  ?  You  are  quite  right.  No- 
body's child  must  sleep  under  Somebody's  roof — and  why  not 
yours  ?" 

"  This  way,"  said  the  captain,  dexterously  profiting  by  the  sud- 
den change  in  her  humor,  and  cunningly  refraining  from  exaspera- 
ting it  by  saying  more  himself.     "  This  way." 

She  followed  him  a  few  steps,  and  suddenly  stopped. 

"  Suppose  I  am  discovered  ?"  she  broke  out,  abruptly.  "  Who  has 
any  authority  over  me  ?  Who  can  take  me  back,  if  I  don't  choose 
to  go  ?  If  they  all  find  me  to-morrow,  what  then  ?  Can't  I  say  No 
to  Mr.  Pendril  ?     Can't  I  trust  my  own  courage  with  Miss  Garth  ?" 

"  Can  you  trust  your  courage  with  your  sister  ?"  whispered  the 
captain,  who  had  not  forgotten  the  references  to  Norah  which  had 
twice  escaped  her  already. 

Her  head  drooped.  She  shivered  as  if  the  cold  night  air  had 
struck  her,  and  leaned  back  wearily  against  the  parapet  of  the  wall. 

"  Not  with  Norah,"  she  said,  sadly.  "  I  could  trust  myself  with 
the  others.     Not  with  Norah." 

"  This  way,"  repeated  Captain  Wragge.  She  roused  herself; 
looked  up  at  the  darkening  heaven,  looked  round  at  the  darkening 
view.    "  What  must  be,  must,"  she  said,  and  followed  him. 


174  NO   NAME. 

The  Minster  clock  struck  the  quarter  to  eight  as  they  left  the 
Walk  on  the  Wall  and  descended  the  steps  into  Rosemary  Lane. 
Almost  at  the  same  moment  the  lawyer's  clerk  from  London  gave 
the  last  instructions  to  his  subordinates,  and  took  up  his  own  posi- 
tion, on  the  opposite  side  of  the  river,  within  easy  view  of  Mr.  Hux- 
table's  door. 


CHAPTER  II. 

Captain  Wragge  stopped  nearly  midway  in  the  one  little  row 
of  houses  composing  Rosemary  Lane,  and  let  himself  and  his  guest 
in  at  the  door  of  his  lodgings  with  his  own  key.  As  they  entered 
the  passage,  a  care-worn  woman  in  a  widow's  cap  made  her  appear- 
ance with  a  candle.  "  My  niece,"  said  the  captain,  presenting  Mag- 
dalen ;  "  my  niece  on  a  visit  to  York.  She  has  kindly  consented 
to  occupy  your  empty  bedroom.  Consider  it  let,  if  you  please,  to 
my  niece  —  and  be  very  particular  in  airing  the  sheets  ?  Is  Mrs. 
Wragge  up  stairs  ?  Very  good.  You  may  lend  me  your  candle. 
My  dear  girl,  Mrs.  Wragge's  boudoir  is  on  the  first  floor ;  Mrs. 
Wragge  is  visible.     Allow  me  to  show  you  the  way  up." 

As  he  ascended  the  stairs  first,  the  care-worn  widow  whispered, 
piteously,  to  Magdalen,  "  I  hope  you'll  pay  me,  miss.  Your  uncle 
doesn't." 

The  captain  threw  open  the  door  of  the  front  room  on  the  first 
floor,  and  disclosed  a  female  figure,  arrayed  in  a  gown  of  tarnished 
amber-colored  satin,  seated  solitary  on  a  small  chair,  with  dingy  old 
gloves  on  its  hands,  with  a  tattered  old  book  on  its  knees,  and  with 
one  little  bedroom  candle  by  its  side.  The  figure  terminated  at  its 
upper  extremity  in  a  large,  smooth,  white  round  face — like  a  moon 
—encircled  by  a  cap  and  green  ribbons,  and  dimly  irradiated  by 
eyes  of  mild  and  faded  blue,  which  looked  straightforward  into 
vacancy,  and  took  not  the  smallest  notice  of  Magdalen's  appearance, 
on  the  opening  of  the  door. 

"Mrs.  Wragge !"  cried  the  captain,  shouting  at  her  as  if  she  was 
fast  asleep.     "  Mrs.  Wragge  !" 

The  lady  of  the  faded  blue  eyes  slowly  rose  to  an  apparently  in- 
terminable height.  When  she  had  at  last  attained  an  upright  posi- 
tion, she  towered  to  a  stature  of  two  or  three  inches  over  six  feet. 
Giants  of  both  sexes  are,  by  a  wise  dispensation  of  Providence, 
created,  for  the  most  part,  gentle.  If  Mrs.  Wragge  and  a  lamb  had 
been  placed  side  by  side,  comparison,  under  those  circumstances, 
would  have  exposed  the  lamb  as  a  rank  impostor. 

"  Tea,  captain  ?"   inquired   Mrs.  Wragge,   looking  submissively 


NO   NAME.  175 

down  at  her  husband,  whose  head,  when  he  stood  on  tiptoe,  barely 
reached  her  shoulder. 

"  Miss  Vanstone,  the  younger,"  said  the  captain,  presenting  Mag- 
dalen. "  Our  fair  relative,  whom  I  have  met  by  fortunate  accident. 
Our  guest  for  the  night.  Our  guest !"  reiterated  the  captain,  shout- 
ing once  more  as  if  the  tall  lady  was  still  fast  asleep,  in  spite  of  the 
plain  testimony  of  her  own  eyes  to  the  contrary. 

A  smile  expressed  itself  (in  faint  outline)  on  the  large  vacant 
space  of  Mrs.  Wragge's  countenance.  "  Oh  ?"  she  said,  interrogative- 
ly. "  Oh,  indeed  ?  Please,  miss,  will  you  sit  down  ?  I'm  sorry — 
no,  I  don't  mean  I'm  sorry ;  I  mean  I'm  glad — "  she  stopped,  and 
consulted  her  husband  by  a  helpless  look. 

"  Olad,  of  course  !"  shouted  the  captain. 

"  Glad,  of  course,"  echoed  the  giantess  of  the  amber  satin,  more 
meekly  than  ever. 

"  Mrs.  Wragge  is  not  deaf,"  explained  the  captain.  "  She's  only 
a  little  slow.  Constitutionally  torpid — if  I  may  use  the  expression. 
I  am  merely  loud  with  her  (and  I  beg  you  will  honor  me  by  being 
loud,  too)  as  a  necessary  stimulant  to  her  ideas.  Shout  at  her — and 
her  mind  comes  up  to  time.  Speak  to  her — and  she  drifts  miles 
away  from  you  directly.     Mrs.  Wragge  !" 

Mrs.  Wragge  instantly  acknowledged  the  stimulant.  "  Tea,  cap- 
tain ?"  she  inquired,  for  the  second  time. 

"  Put  your  cap  straight !"  shouted  her  husband.  "  I  beg  ten 
thousand  pardons,"  he  resumed,  again  addressing  himself  to  Mag- 
dalen. "  The  sad  truth  is,  I  am  a  martyr  to  my  own  sense  of  order. 
All  untidiness,  all  want  of  system  and  regularity,  causes  me  the 
acutest  irritation.  My  attention  is  distracted,  my  composure  is  up- 
set ;  I  can't  rest  till  things  are  set  straight  again.  Externally  speak- 
ing, Mrs.  Wragge  is,  to  my  infinite  regret,  the  crookedest  woman  I 
ever  met  with.  More  to  the  right !"  shouted  the  captain,  as  Mrs. 
Wragge,  like  a  well-trained  child,  presented  herself  with  her  revised 
head-dress  for  her  husband's  inspection. 

Mrs.  Wragge  immediately  pulled  the  cap  to  the  left.  Magdalen 
rose,  and  set  it  right  for  her.  The  moon-face  of  the  giantess  bright- 
ened for  the  first  time.  She  looked  admiringly  at  Magdalen's  cloak 
and  bonnet.  "  Do  you  like  dress,  miss  ?"  she  asked,  suddenly,  in  a 
confidential  whisper.     "  I  do." 

"  Show  Miss  Vanstone  her  room,"  said  the  captain,  looking  as  if 
the  whole  house  belonged  to  him.  "  The  spare-room,  the  land- 
lady's spare-room,  on  the  third  floor  front.  Offer  Miss  Vanstone  all 
articles  connected  with  the  toilet  of  which  she  may  stand  in  need. 
She  has  no  luggage  with  her.  Supply  the  deficiency,  and  then 
come  back  and  make  tea." 

Mrs.  Wragge  acknowledged  the  receipt  of  these  lofty  directions 


176  NO   NAME. 

by  a  look  of  placid  bewilderment,  and  led  the  way  out  of  the  room ; 
Magdalen  following  her,  with  a  candle  presented  by  the  attentive 
captain.  As  soon  as  they  were  alone  on  the  landing  outside,  Mrs. 
Wragge  raised  the  tattered  old  book  which  she  had  been  reading 
when  Magdalen  was  first  presented  to  her,  and  Which  she  had  never 
let  out  of  her  hand  since,  and  slowly  tapped  herself  on  the  forehead 
with  it.  "  Oh,  my  poor  head !"  said  the  tall  lady,  in  meek  solilo- 
quy; "it's  Buzzing  again  worse  than  ever!" 

"  Buzzing  ?"  repeated  Magdalen,  in  the  utmost  astonishment. 

Mrs.  Wragge  ascended  the  stairs,  without  offering  any  explana- 
tion, stopped  at  one  of  the  rooms  on  the  second  floor,  and  led  the 
way  in. 

"  This  is  not  the  third  floor,"  said  Magdalen.  "  This  is  not  my 
room,  surely  ?" 

"  Wait  a  bit,"  pleaded  Mrs.  Wragge.  "  Wait  a  bit,  miss,  before 
we  go  up  any  higher.  I've  got  the  Buzzing  in  my  head  worse  than 
ever.     Please  wait  for  me  till  I'm  a  little  better  again." 

"  Shall  I  ask  for  help  ?"  inquired  Magdalen.  "  Shall  I  call  the 
landlady  ?" 

"  Help  ?"  echoed  Mrs.  Wragge.  "  Bless  you,  I  don't  want  help  ! 
I'm  used  to  it.  I've  had  the  Buzzing  in  my  head,  off  and  on — how 
many  years?"  She  stopped,  reflected,  lost  herself,  and  suddenly 
tried  a  question  in  despair.  "  Have  you  ever  been  at  Darch's  Din- 
ing-rooms in  London  ?"  she  asked,  with  an  appearance  of  the  deep- 
est interest. 

"  No,"  replied  Magdalen,  wondering  at  the  strange  inquiry. 

"  That's  where  the  Buzzing  in  my  head  first  began,"  said  Mrs. 
Wragge,  following  the  new  clue  with  the  deepest  attention  and 
anxiety.  "I  was  employed  to  wait  on  the  gentlemen  at  Darch's 
Dining-rooms— I  was.  The  gentlemen  all  came  together ;  the  gen- 
tlemen were  all  hungry  together;  the  gentlemen  all  gave  their  or- 
ders together — "  She  stopped,  and  tapped  her  head  again,  de- 
spondently, with  the  tattered  old  book. 

"And  you  had  to  keep  all  their  orders  in  your  memory,  separate 
one  from  the  other?"  suggested  Magdalen,  helping  her  out.  "And 
the  trying  to  do  that  confused  you  ?" 

"  That's  it !"  said  Mrs.  Wragge,  becoming  violently  excited  in  a 
moment.  "  Boiled  pork  and  greens  and  pease-pudding,  for  Number 
One.  Stewed  beef  and  carrots  and  gooseberry  tart,  for  Number 
Two.  Cut  of  mutton,  and  quick  about  it,  well  done,  and  plenty  of 
fat,  for  Number  Three.  Codfish  and  parsnips,  two  chops  to  follow, 
hot-and-hot,  or  I'll  be  the  death  of  you,  for  Number  Four.  Five, 
six,  seven,  eight,  nine,  ten.  Carrots  and  gooseberry  tart — pease-pud- 
ding and  plenty  of  fat — pork  and  beef  and  mutton,  and  cut  'em  all, 
and  quick  about  it— stout  for  one,  and  ale  for  t'other — and  stale 


NO   NAME.  177 

bread  here,  and  new  bread  there — and  this  gentleman  likes  cheese, 
and  that  gentleman  doesn't — Matilda,  Tilda,  Tilda,  Tilda,  fifty  times 
over,  till  I  didn't  know  my  own  name  again — oh  lord  !  oh  lord  ! !  oh 
lord ! ! !  all  together,  all  at  the  same  time,  all  out  of  temper,  all  buzz- 
ing in  my  poor  head  like  forty  thousand  million  bees — don't  tell 
the  captain !  don't  tell  the  captain !"  The  unfortunate  creature 
dropped  the  tattered  old  book,  and  beat  both  her  hands  on  her 
head,  with  a  look  of  blank  terror  fixed  on  the  door. 

"Hush  !  hush  !"  said  Magdalen.  "The  captain  hasn't  heard  you. 
I  know  what  is  the  matter  with  your  head  now.     Let  me  cool  it." 

She  dipped  a  towel  in  water,  and  pressed  it  on  the  hot  and  help- 
less head  which  Mrs.  Wragge  submitted  to  her  with  the  docility  of 
a  sick  child. 

"  What  a  pretty  hand  you've  got !"  said  the  poor  creature,  feeling 
the  relief  of  the  coolness,  and  taking  Magdalen's  hand,  admiringly, 
in  her  own.  "  How  soft  and  white  it  is  !  I  try  to  be  a  lady ;  I  al- 
ways keep  my  gloves  on — but  I  can't  get  my  hands  like  yours.  I'm 
nicely  dressed,  though,  ain't  I?  I  like  dress;  it's  a  comfort  to  me. 
I'm  always  happy  when  I'm  looking  at  my  things.  I  say — you 
won't  be  angry  with  me  ? — I  should  so  like  to  try  your  bonnet  on." 

Magdalen  humored  her,  with  the  ready  compassion  of  the  young. 
She  stood  smiling  and  nodding  at  herself  in  the  glass,  with  the  bon- 
net perched  on  the  top  of  her  head.  "  I  had  one  as  pretty  as  this, 
once,"  she  said — "  only  it  was  white,  not  black.  I  wrore  it  when  the 
captain  married  me." 

"  Where  did  you  meet  with  him  ?"  asked  Magdalen,  putting  the 
question  as  a  chance  means  of  increasing  her  scanty  stock  of  infor- 
mation on  the  subject  of  Captain  Wragge. 

"  At  the  Dining-rooms,"  said  Mrs.  Wragge.  "  He  was  the  hungri- 
est and  the  loudest  to  wait  upon  of  the  lot  of  'em.  I  made  more 
mistakes  with  him  than  I  did  with  all  the  rest  of  them  put  together. 
He  used  to  swear — oh,  didn't  he  use  to  swear!  When  he  left  off 
swearing  at  me,  he  married  me.  There  was  others  wanted  me  be- 
sides him.  Bless  you,  I  had  my  pick.  Why  not  ?  When  you  have 
a  trifle  of  money  left  you  that  you  didn't  expect,  if  that  don't  make 
a  lady  of  you,  what  does  ?  Isn't  a  lady  to  have  her  pick  ?  I  had 
my  trifle  of  money,  and  I  had  my  pick,  and  I  picked  the  captain — I 
did.  He  was  the  smartest  and  the  shortest  of  them  all.  He  took 
care  of  me  and  my  money.  I'm  here,  the  money's  gone.  Don't  you 
pat  that  towTel  down  on  the  table  —  he  won't  have  that!  Don't 
move  his  razors  —  don't,  please,  or  I  shall  forget  which  is  which. 
I've  got  to  remember  which  is  which  to-morrow  morning.  Bless 
you,  the  captain  don't  shave  himself !  He  had  me  taught.  I  shave 
him.  I  do  his  hair,  and  cut  his  nails — he's  awfully  particular  about 
his  nails.     So  he  is  about  his  trowsers.     And  his  shoes.     And  his 


178  NO    NAME. 

newspaper  in  the  morning.  And  his  breakfasts,  and  lunches,  and 
dinners,  and  teas — "  She  stopped,  struck  by  a  sudden  recollection, 
looked  about  her,  observed  the  tattered  old  book  on  the  floor,  and 
clasped  her  hands  in  despair.  "I've  lost  the  place !"  she  exclaimed, 
helplessly.  "  Oh,  mercy,  what  will  become  of  me !  I've  lost  the 
place." 

"  Never  mind,"  said  Magdalen ;  "  I'll  soon  find  the  place  for  you 
again." 

She  picked  up  the  book,  looked  into  the  pages,  and  found  that 
the  object  of  Mrs.  Wragge's  anxiety  was  nothing  more  important 
than  an  old-fashioned  Treatise  on  the  Art  of  Cookery,  reduced  un- 
der the  usual  heads  of  Fish,  Flesh,  and  Fowl,  and  containing  the 
customary  series  of  receipts.  Turning  over  the  leaves,  Magdalen 
came  to  one  particular  page,  thickly  studded  with  little  drops  of 
moisture  half  dry.  "  Curious  !"  she  said.  "  If  this  was  any  thing  but 
a  cookery-book,  I  should  say  somebody  had  been  crying  over  it." 

"  Somebody  ?"  echoed  Mrs.  Wragge,  with  a  stare  of  amazement. 
"  It  isn't  somebody — it's  Me.  Thank  you  kindly,  that's  the  place 
sure  enough.  Bless  you,  I'm  used  to  crying  over  it.  You'd  cry 
too,  if  you  had  to  get  the  captain's  dinners  out  of  it.  As  sure  as 
ever  I  sit  down  to  this  book,  the  Buzzing  in  my  head  begins  again. 
Who's  to  make  it  out  ?  Sometimes  I  think  I've  got  it,  and  it  all 
goes  away  from  me.  Sometimes  I  think  I  haven't  got  it,  and  it 
all  comes  back  in  a  heap.  Look  here !  Here's  what  he's  ordered 
for  his  breakfast  to-morrow  :  '  Omelette  with  Herbs.  Beat  up  two 
eggs  with  a  little  water  or  milk,  salt,  pepper,  chives,  and  parsley. 
Mince  small.' — There  !  mince  small !  How  am  I  to  mince  small 
when  it's  all  mixed  up  and  running  ?  '  Put  a  piece  of  butter  the 
size  of  your  thumb  into  the  frying-pan.' — Look  at  my  thumb,  and 
look  at  yours  !  whose  size  does  she  mean  ?  '  Boil,  but  not  brown.' 
—If  it  mustn't  be  brown,  what  color  must  it  be  ?  She  won't  tell 
me ;  she  expects  me  to  know,  and  I  don't.  '  Pour  in  the  omelette.' 
—There  !  I  can  do  that.  '  Allow  it  to  set,  raise  it  round  the  edge ; 
when  done,  turn  it  over  to  double  it.' — Oh,  the  number  of  times  I 
turned  it  over  and  doubled  it  in  my  head,  before  you  came  in  to- 
night !  '  Keep  it  soft ;  put  the  dish  on  the  frying-pan,  and  turn  it 
over.'  Which  am  I  to  turn  over — oh,  mercy,  try  the  cold  towel 
again,  and  tell  me  which — the  dish  or  the  frying-pan  ?" 

"Put  the  dish  on  the  frying-pan,"  said  Magdalen;  "and  then 
turn  the  frying-pan  over.     That  is  what  it  means,  I  think." 

"  Thank  you  kindly,"  said  Mrs.  Wragge,  "  I  want  to  get  it  into 
my  head ;  please  say  it  again." 
Magdalen  said  it  again. 

"  And  then  turn  the  frying-pan  over,"  repeated  Mrs.  Wragge,  with 
a  sudden  burst  of  energy.     "  I've  got  it  now  !     Oh,  the  lots  of  omc 


NO    NAME.  179 

lettes  all  frying  together  in  my  head ;  and  all  frying  wrong !  Much 
obliged,  I'm  sure.  You've  put  me  all  right  again :  I'm  only  a  little 
tired  with  talking.  And  then  turn  the  frying-pan,  then  turn  the 
frying-pan,  then  turn  the  frying-pan  over.  It  sounds  like  poetry, 
don't  it  ?" 

Her  voice  sank,  and  she  drowsily  closed  her  eyes.  At  the  same 
moment  the  door  of  the  room  below  opened,  and  the  captain's  mel- 
lifluous bass  notes  floated  up  stairs,  charged  with  the  customary 
stimulant  to  his  wife's  faculties. 

"  Mrs.  Wragge  !"  cried  the  captain.     "  Mrs.  Wragge !" 

She  started  to  her  feet  at  that  terrible  summons.  "  Oh,  what  did 
he  tell  me  to  do  ?"  she  asked,  distractedly.  "  Lots  of  things,  and 
I've  forgotten  them  all !" 

"  Say  you  have  done  them  when  he  asks  you,"  suggested  Mag- 
dalen. "  They  were  things  for  me — things  I  don't  want.  I  remem- 
ber all  that  is  necessary.  My  room  is  the  front  room  on  the  third 
floor.     Go  down  stairs  and  say  I  am  coming  directly." 

She  took  up  the  candle  and  pushed  Mrs.  Wragge  out  on  the  land- 
ing. "  Say  I  am  coming  directly,"  she  whispered  again — and  went 
up  stairs  by  herself  to  the  third  story. 

The  room  was  small,  close,  and  very  poorly  furnished.  In  former 
days  Miss  Garth  would  have  hesitated  to  offer  such  a  room  to  one 
of  the  servants  at  Combe-Raven.  But  it  was  quiet ;  it  gave  her  a 
few  minutes  alone ;  and  it  was  endurable,  even  welcome,  on  that 
account.  She  locked  herself  in  and  walked  mechanically,  with  a 
woman's  first  impulse  in  a  strange  bedroom,  to  the  rickety  little  ta- 
ble and  the  dingy  little  looking-glass.  She  waited  there  for  a  mo- 
ment, and  then  turned  away  with  weary  contempt.  "  What  does  it 
matter  how  pale  I  am  ?"  she  thought  to  herself.  "  Frank  can't  see 
me — what  does  it  matter  now  !" 

She  laid  aside  her  cloak  and  bonnet,  and  sat  down  to  collect  her- 
self. But  the  events  of  the  day  had  worn  her  out.  The  past,  when 
she  tried  to  remember  it,  only  made  her  heart  ache.  The  future, 
when  she  tried  to  penetrate  it,  was  a  black  void.  She  rose  again, 
and  stood  by  the  uncurtained  window  —  stood  looking  out,  as  if 
there  was  some  hidden  sympathy  for  her  own  desolation  in  the 
desolate  night. 

"Norah!"  she  said  to  herself,  tenderly ;  "I  wonder  if  Norah  is 
thinking  of  me  ?  Oh,  if  I  could  be  as  patient  as  she  is  !  If  I  could 
only  forget  the  debt  we  owe  to  Michael  Vanstone !" 

Her  face  darkened  with  a  vindictive  despair,  and  she  paced  the 
little  cage  of  a  room  backward  and  forward,  softly.  "  No :  never 
till  the  debt  is  paid !"  Her  thoughts  veered  back  again  to  Frank. 
"  Still  at  sea,  poor  fellow ;  farther  and  farther  away  from  me ;  sail- 


180  NO    NAME. 

ing  through  the  clay,  sailing  through  the  night.  Oh,  Frank,  love 
me  !" 

Her  eyes  filled  with  tears.  She  dashed  theru  away,  made  for  the 
door,  and  laughed  with  a  desperate  levity,  as  she  unlocked  it  again. 

"Any  company  is  better  than  my  own  thoughts,"  she  burst  out, 
recklessly,  as  she  left  the  room.  "I'm  forgetting  my  ready-made 
relations — my  half-witted  aunt,  and  my  uncle  the  rogue."  She  de- 
scended the  stairs  to  the  landing  on  the  first  floor,  and  paused  there 
in  momentary  hesitation.  "  How  will  it  end  ?"  she  asked  herself. 
"  Where  is  my  blindfolded  journey  taking  me  to  now  ?  Who 
knows,  and  who  cares  ?" 

She  entered  the  room. 

Captain  Wragge  was  presiding  at  the  tea-tray  with  the  air  of  a 
prince  in  his  own  banqueting-hall.  At  one  side  of  the  table  sat  Mrs. 
Wragge,  watching  her  husband's  eye  Uke  an  animal  waiting  to  be 
fed.  At  the  other  side  was  an  empty  chair,  toward  which  the  cap- 
tain waved  his  persuasive  hand  when  Magdalen  came  in.  "  How 
do  you  like  your  room?"  he  inquired;  "I  trust  Mrs.  Wragge  has 
made  herself  useful  ?  You  take  milk  and  sugar  ?  Try  the  local 
bread,  honor  the  York  butter,  test  the  freshness  of  a  new  and  neigh- 
boring egg.  I  offer  my  Uttle  all.  A  pauper's  meal,  my  dear  girl — 
seasoned  with  a  gentleman's  welcome." 

"  Seasoned  with  salt,  pepper,  chives,  and  parsley,"  murmured  Mrs. 
Wragge,  catching  instantly  at  a  word  in  connection  with  cookery, 
and  harnessing  her  head  to  the  omelette  for  the  rest  of  the  evening. 

"  Sit  straight  at  the  table !"  shouted  the  captain.  "  More  to  the 
left,  more  still  — that  will  do.  During  your  absence  up  stairs,"  he 
continued,  addressing  himself  to  Magdalen,  "  my  mind  has  not  been 
unemployed.  I  have  been  considering  your  position  with  a  view 
exclusively  to  your  own  benefit.  If  you  decide  on  being  guided  to- 
morrow by  the  light  of  my  experience,  that  light  is  unreservedly  at 
your  service.  You  may  naturally  say,  '  I  know  but  little  of  you, 
captain,  and  that  little  is  unfavorable.'  Granted,  on  one  condition 
— that  you  permit  me  to  make  myself  and  my  character  quite  famil- 
iar to  you  when  tea  is  over.  False  shame  is  foreign  to  my  nature. 
You  see  my  wife,  my  house,  my  bread,  my  butter,  and  my  eggs, 
all  exactly  as  they  are.  See  me,  too,  my  dear  girl,  while  you  are 
about  it." 

When  tea  was  over,  Mrs.  Wragge,  at  a  signal  from  her  husband, 
retired  to  a  corner  of  the  room,  with  the  eternal  cookery-book  still 
in  her  hand.  "  Mince  small,"  she  whispered,  confidentially,  as  she 
passed  Magdalen.     "  That's  a  teaser,  isn't  it?" 

"  Down  at  heel  again  !"  shouted  the  captain,  pointing  to  his  wife's 
heavy  flat  feet  as  they  shuffled  across  the  room,     "  The  right  shoe. 


NO    NAME.  181 

Pull  it  up  at  heel,  Mrs.  Wragge  —  pull  it  up  at  heel!  Pray  allow 
me,"  he  continued,  offering  his  arm  to  Magdalen,  and  escorting  her 
to  a  dirty  little  horse-hair  sofa.  "  You  want  repose — after  your  long 
journey,  you  really  want  repose."  He  drew  his  chair  to  the  sofa, 
and  surveyed  her  with  a  bland  look  of  investigation — as  if  he  had 
been  her  medical  attendant,  with  a  diagnosis  on  his  mind. 

•'  Very  pleasant !  very  pleasant !"  said  the  captain,  when  he  had 
seen  his  guest  comfortable  on  the  sofa.  "I  feel  quite  in  the  bo- 
som of  my  family.  Shall  we  return  to  our  subject  —  the  subject  of 
my  rascally  self?  No !  no !  No  apologies,  no  protestations,  pray. 
Don't  mince  the  matter  on  your  side  — and  depend  on  me  not  to 
mince  it  on  mine.  Now  come  to  facts ;  pray  come  to  facts.  Who, 
and  what  am  I  ?  Carry  your  mind  back  to  our  conversation  on  the 
Walls  of  this  interesting  city,  and  let  us  start  once  more  from  your 
point  of  view.  I  am  a  Rogue ;  and,  in  that  capacity  (as  I  have  al- 
ready pointed  out),  the  most  useful  man  you  possibly  could  have  met 
with.  Now  observe !  There  are  many  varieties  of  Rogue ;  let  me 
tell  you  my  variety,  to  begin  with.     I  am  a  Swindler." 

His  entire  shamelessness  was  really  superhuman.  Not  the  vestige 
of  a  blush  varied  the  sallow  monotony  of  his  complexion ;  the  smile 
wreathed  his  curly  lips  as  pleasantly  as  ever ;  his  party-colored  eyes 
twinkled  at  Magdalen,  with  the  self-enjoying  frankness  of  a  natural- 
ly harmless  man.  Had  his  wife  heard  him  ?  Magdalen  looked  over 
his  shoulder  to  the  corner  of  the  room  in  which  she  was  sitting  be- 
hind him.  No :  the  self-taught  student  of  cookery  was  absorbed  in 
her  subject.  She  had  advanced  her  imaginary  omelette  to  the  crit- 
ical stage  at  which  the  butter  was  to  be  thrown  in — that  vaguely- 
measured  morsel  of  butter,  the  size  of  your  thumb.  Mrs.  Wragge 
sat  lost  in  contemplation  of  one  of  her  own  thumbs,  and  shook  her 
head  over  it,  as  if  it  failed  to  satisfy  her. 

"  Don't  be  shocked,"  proceeded  the  captain ;  "  don't  be  astonished. 
Swindler  is  nothing  but  a  word  of  two  syllables,  s,  w,  i,  sr,  d  — 
swind ;  l,  e,  r — ler ;  Swindler.  Definition :  A  moral  agriculturist ; 
a  man  who  cultivates  the  field  of  human  sympathy.  I  am  that  moral 
agriculturist,  that  cultivating  man.  Narrow-minded  mediocrity, 
envious  of  my  success  in  my  profession,  calls  me  a  Swindler.  What 
of  that  ?  The  same  low  tone  of  mind  assails  men  in  other  profes- 
sions in  a  similar  manner — calls  great  writers  scribblers — great  gen- 
erals, butchers  —  and  so  on.  It  entirely  depends  on  the  point  of 
view.  Adopting  your  point,  I  announce  myself  intelligibly  as  a 
Swindler.  Now  return  the  obligation,  and  adopt  mine.  Hear  what 
I  have  to  say  for  myself,  in  the  exercise  of  my  profession. — Shall  I 
continue  to  put  it  frankly  ?" 

u  Yes,"  said  Magdalen ;  "  and  I'll  tell  you  frankly  afterward  what 
I  think  of  it." 


182  NO   NAME. 

The  captain  cleared  his  throat ;  mentally  assembled  his  entire 
army  of  words — horse,  foot,  artillery,  and  reserves ;  put  himself  at 
the  head ;  and  dashed  into  action,  to  carry  the  moral  intrenchments 
of  Society  by  a  general  charge. 

"  Now,  observe,"  he  began.  "  Here  am  I,  a  needy  object.  Very 
good.  Without  complicating  the  question  by  asking  how  I  come 
to  be  in  that  condition,  I  will  merely  inquire  whether  it  is,  or  is  not, 
the  duty  of  a  Christian  community  to  help  the  needy.  If  you  say 
No,  you  simply  shock  me ;  and  there  is  an  end  of  it.  If  you  say 
Yes,  then  I  beg  to  ask,  Why  am  I  to  blame  for  making  a  Christian 
community  do  its  duty  ?  You  may  say,  Is  a  careful  man  who  has 
saved  money  bound  to  spend  it  again  on  a  careless  stranger  who  has 
saved  none  ?  Why  of  course  he  is  !  And  on  what  ground,  pray  ? 
Good  heavens  !  on  the  ground  that  he  has  got  the  money,  to  be  sure. 
All  the  world  over,  the  man  who  has  not  got  the  thing,  obtains  it, 
on  one  pretense  or  another,  of  the  man  who  has — and,  in  nine  cases 
out  of  ten,  the  pretense  is  a  false  one.  What !  your  pockets  are  full, 
and  my  pockets  are  empty ;  and  you  refuse  to  help  me  ?  Sordid 
wretch !  do  you  think  I  will  allow  you  to  violate  the  sacred  obliga- 
tions of  charity  in  my  person  ?  I  won't  allow  you — I  say  distinct- 
ly, I  won't  allow  you.  Those  are  my  principles  as  a  moral  agricul- 
turist. Principles  which  admit  of  trickery  ?  Certainly.  Am  I  to 
blame  if  the  field  of  human  sympathy  can't  be  cultivated  in  any  oth- 
er way  ?  Consult  my  brother  agriculturists  in  the  mere  farming  line 
— do  they  get  their  crops  for  the  asking  ?  No  !  they  must  circum- 
vent arid  Nature  exactly  as  I  circumvent  sordid  Man.  They  must 
plow,  and  sow,  and  top-dress,  and  bottom-dress,  and  deep-drain,  and 
surface-drain,  and  all  the  rest  of  it.  Why  am  I  to  be  checked  in  the 
vast  occupation  of  deep-draining  mankind  ?  Why  am  I  to  be  perse- 
cuted for  habitually  exciting  the  noblest  feelings  of  our  common  na- 
ture ?  Infamous  ! — I  can  characterize  it  by  no  other  word — infa- 
mous !  If  I  hadn't  confidence  in  the  future,  I  should  despair  of  hu- 
manity— but  I  have  confidence  in  the  future.  Yes !  one  of  these 
days  (when  I  am  dead  and  gone),  as  ideas  enlarge  and  enlighten- 
ment progresses,  the  abstract  merits  of  the  profession  now  called 
swindling  will  be  recognized.  When  that  day  comes,  don't  drag 
me  out  of  my  grave  and  give  me  a  public  funeral ;  don't  take  advan- 
tage of  my  having  no  voice  to  raise  in  my  own  defense,  and  insult 
me  by  a  national  statue.  No !  do  me  justice  on  my  tombstone ; 
dash  me  off,  in  one  masterly  sentence,  on  my  epitaph.  Here  lies 
Wragge,  embalmed  in  the  tardy  recognition  of  his  species :  he  plow- 
ed, sowed,  and  reaped  his  fellow-creatures ;  and  enlightened  poster- 
ity congratulates  him  on  the  uniform  excellence  of  his  crops." 

He  stopped ;  not  from  want  of  confidence,  not  from  want  of  words 
— purely  from  want  of  breath.     "  I  put  it  frankly,  with  a  dash  of 


NO   NAME.  183 

humor,"  he  said,  pleasantly.  "  I  don't  shock  you — do  I  ?"  Weary 
and  heart-sick  as  she  was — suspicious  of  others,  doubtful  of  herself 
— the  extravagant  impudence  of  Captain  Wragge's  defense  of  swin- 
dling touched  Magdalen's  natural  sense  of  humor,  and  forced  a  smile 
to  her  lips.  "  Is  the  Yorkshire  crop  a  particularly  rich  one  just  at 
present  ?"  she  inquired,  meeting  him,  in  her  neatly  feminine  way, 
with  his  own  weapons. 

"A  hit — a  palpable  hit,"  said  the  captain, jocosely  exhibiting  the 
tails  of  his  threadbare  shooting-jacket,  as  a  practical  commentary  on 
Magdalen's  remark.  "  My  dear  girl,  here  or  elsewhere,  the  crop  nev- 
er fails — but  one  man  can't  always  gather  it  in.  The  assistance  of 
intelligent  co-operation  is,  I  regret  to  say,  denied  me.  I  have  noth- 
ing in  common  with  the  clumsy  rank  and  file  of  my  profession,  who 
convict  themselves,  before  recorders  and  magistrates,  of  the  worst  of 
all  offenses — incurable  stupidity  in  the  exercise  of  their  own  voca- 
tion. Such  as  you  see  me,  I  stand  entirely  alone.  After  years  of 
successful  self-dependence,  the  penalties  of  celebrity  are  beginning 
to  attach  to  me.  On  my  way  frorn  the  North,  I  pause  at  this  inter- 
esting city  for  the  third  time ;  I  consult  my  Books  for  the  custom- 
ary references  to  past  local  experience ;  I  find  under  the  heading, 
'  Personal  position  in  York,'  the  initials,  T.  W.  K.,  signifying  Too 
Well  Known.  I  refer  to  my  Index,  and  turn  to  the  surrounding 
neighborhood.  The  same  brief  marks  meet  my  eye.  'Leeds. 
T.  W.  K.— Scarborough.  T.  W.  K.  —  Harrowgate.  T.  W.  K.'— and 
so  on.  What  is  the  inevitable  consequence  ?  I  suspend  my  pro- 
ceedings ;  my  resources  evaporate ;  and  my  fair  relative  finds  me  the 
pauper  gentleman  whom  she  now  sees  before  her." 

"  Your  books  ?"  said  Magdalen.     "  What  books  do  you  mean  ?" 

"  You  shall  see,"  replied  the  captain.  "  Trust  me,  or  not,  as  you 
like — I  trust  you  implicitly.     You  shall  see." 

With  those  words  he  retired  into  the  back  room.  While  he  was 
gone,  Magdalen  stole  another  look  at  Mrs.  Wragge.  Was  she  still 
self-isolated  from  hei  husband's  deluge  of  words  ?  Perfectly  self-iso- 
lated. She  had  advanced  the  imaginary  omelette  to  the  last  stage 
of  culinary  progress ;  and  she  was  now  rehearsing  the  final  operation 
of  turning  it  over — with  the  palm  of  her  hand  to  represent  the  dish, 
and  the  cookery-book  to  impersonate  the  frying-pan.  "  I've  got  it," 
said  Mrs.  Wragge,  nodding  across  the  room  at  Magdalen.  "  First 
put  the  frying-pan  on  the  dish,  and  then  tumble  both  of  them  over." 

Captain  Wragge  returned,  carrying  a  neat  black  dispatch-box, 
adorned  with  a  bright  brass  lock.  He  produced  from  the  box  five 
or  six  plump  little  books,  bound  in  commercial  calf  and  vellum,  and 
each  fitted  comfortably  with  its  own  little  lock. 

"Mind !"  said  the  moral  agriculturist,  "  I  take  no  credit  to  myself 
for  this :  it  is  my  nature  to  be  orderly,  and  orderly  I  am.     I  must 


184  NO   NAME. 

have  every  thing  down  in  black  and  white,  or  I  should  go  mad! 
Here  is  my  commercial  library :  Day-book,  Ledger,  Book  of  Dis- 
tricts, Book  of  Letters,  Book  of  Remarks,  and  so  on.  Kindly  throw 
your  eye  over  any  one  of  them.  I  flatter  myself  there  is  no  such 
thing  as  a  blot,  or  a  careless  entry  in  it,  from  the  first  page  to  the 
last.  Look  at  this  room — is  there  a  chair  out  of  place  ?  Not  if  I 
know  it !  Look  at  me.  Am  I  dusty  ?  am  I  dirty  ?  am  I  half 
shaved  ?  Am  I,  in  brief,  a  speckless  pauper,  or  am  I  not  ?  Mind  ! 
I  take  no  credit  to  myself;  the  nature  of  the  man,  my  dear  girl— 
the  nature  of  the  man  !" 

He  opened  one  of  the  books.  Magdalen  was  no  judge  of  the  ad- 
mirable correctness  with  which  the  accounts  inside  were  all  kept; 
but  she  could  estimate  the  neatness  of  the  handwriting,  the  regular- 
ity in  the  rows  of  figures,  the  mathematical  exactness  of  the  ruled 
lines  in  red  and  black  ink,  the  cleanly  absence  of  blots,  stains,  or 
erasures.  Although  Captain  Wragge's  inborn  sense  of  order  was 
in  him — as  it  is  in  others— a  sense  too  inveterately  mechanical  to 
exercise  any  elevating  moral  influence  over  his  actions,  it  had  pro- 
duced its  legitimate  effect  on  his  habits,  and  had  reduced  his  rogu- 
eries as  strictly  to  method  and  system  as  if  they  had  been  the  com- 
mercial transactions  of  an  honest  man. 

"  Jn  appearance,  my  system  looks  complicated  V  pursued  the  cap- 
tain. "  In  reality,  it  is  simplicity  itself.  I  merely  avoid  the  errors 
of  inferior  practitioners.  That  is  to  say,  I  never  plead  for  myself; 
and  I  never  apply  to  rich  people — both  fatal  mistakes  which  the  in- 
ferior practitioner  perpetually  commits.  People  with  small  means 
sometimes  have  generous  impulses  in  connection  with  money — rich 
people,  neve?:  My  lord,  with  forty  thousand  a  year ;  Sir  John,  with 
property  in  half  a  dozen  counties — those  are  the  men  who  never 
forgive  the  genteel  beggar  for  swindling  them  out  of  a  sovereign; 
those  are  the  men  who  send  for  the  mendicity  officers;  those  are 
the  men  who  take  care  of  their  money.  Who  are  the  people  who 
lose  shillings  and  sixpences  by  sheer  thoughtlessness?  Servants 
and  small  clerks,  to  whom  shillings  and  sixpences  are  of  conse- 
quence. Did  you  ever  hear  of  Rothschild  or  Baring  dropping  a 
fourpenny-piece  down  a  gutter-hole  ?  Fourpence  in  Rothschild's 
pocket  is  safer  than  fourpence  in  the  pocket  of  that  woman  who  is 
crying  stale  shrimps  in  Skeldergate  at  this  moment.  Fortified  by 
these  sound  principles,  enlightened  by  the  stores  of  written  informa- 
tion in  my  commercial  library,  I  have  ranged  through  the  popula- 
tion for  years  past,  and  have  raised  my  charitable  crops  with  the 
most  cheering  success.  Here,  in  book  Number  One,  are  all  my  Dis- 
tricts mapped  out,  with  the  prevalent  public  feeling  to  appeal  to  in 
each :  Military  District,  Clerical  District,  Agricultural  District ;  ct 
cetera,  et  cetera.     Here,  in  Number  Two,  are  my  cases  that  I  plead : 


NO   NAME.  185 

Family  of  an  officer  who  fell  at  Waterloo ;  Wife  of  a  poor  curate, 
stricken  down  by  nervous  debility;  Widow  of  a  grazier  in  difficul- 
ties gored  to  death  by  a  mad  bull;  et  cetera,  et  cetera.  Here,  in 
Number  Three,  are  the  people  who  have  heard  of  the  officer's  family, 
the  curate's  wife,  the  grazier's  widow,  and  the  people  who  haven't ; 
the  people  who  have  said  Yes,  and  the  people  who  have  said  No ; 
the  people  to  try  again,  the  people  who  want  a  fresh  case  to  stif 
them  up,  the  people  who  are  doubtful,  the  people  to  beware  of;  et 
cetera,  et  cetera.  Here,  in  Number  Four,  are  my  Adopted  Hand- 
writings of  public  characters;  my  testimonials  to  my  own  worth 
and  integrity ;  my  Heart-rending  Statements  of  the  officer's  family, 
the  curate's  wife,  and  the  grazier's  widow,  stained  with  tears,  blot- 
ted with  emotion ;  et  cetera,  et  cetera.  Here,  in  Numbers  Five  and 
Six,  are  my  own  personal  subscriptions  to  local  charities,  actually 
paid  in  remunerative  neighborhoods,  on  the  principle  of  throwing  a 
sprat  to  catch  a  herring ;  also,  my  diary  of  each  day's  proceedings, 
my  personal  reflections  and  remarks,  my  statement  of  existing  diffi- 
culties (such  as  the  difficulty  of  finding  myself  T.  W.  K.  in  this  in- 
teresting city) ;  my  outgoings  and  incomings ;  wind  and  weather ; 
politics  and  public  events ;  fluctuations  in  my  own  health ;  fluctua- 
tions in  Mrs.  Wragge's  head ;  fluctuations  in  our  means  and  meals, 
our  payments,  prospects,  and  principles ;  et  cetera,  et  cetera.  So, 
my  dear  girl,  the  Swindler's  Mill  goes.  So  you  see  me  exactly  as  I 
am.  You  knew,  before  I  met  you,  that  I  lived  on  my  wits.  Well ! 
have  I,  or  have  I  not,  shown  you  that  I  have  wits  to  live  on  ?" 

"  I  have  no  doubt  you  have  done  yourself  full  justice,"  said  Mag- 
dalen, quietly. 

"  I  am  not  at  all  exhausted,"  continued  the  captain.  "  I  can  go 
on,  if  necessary,  for  the  rest  of  the  evening. — However,  if  I  have 
done  myself  full  justice,  perhaps  I  may  leave  the  remaining  points 
in  my  character  to  develop  themselves  at  future  opportunities.  For 
the  present,  I  withdraw  myself  from  notice.  Exit  Wragge.  And 
now  to  business !  Permit  me  to  inquire  what  effect  I  have  produced 
on  your  own  mind?  Do  you  still  believe  that  the  Rogue  who  has 
trusted  you  with  all  his  secrets  is  a  Rogue  who  is  bent  on  taking  a 
mean  advantage  of  a  fair  relative  ?" 

"  I  will  wait  a  little,"  Magdalen  rejoined,  "  before  I  answer  that 
question.  When  I  came  down  to  tea,  you  told  me  you  had  been 
employing  your  mind  for  my  benefit.     May  I  ask  how  ?" 

"  By  all  means,"  said  Captain  Wragge.  "  You  shall  have  the  net 
result  of  the  whole  mental  process.  Said  process  ranges  over  the 
present  and  future  proceedings  of  your  disconsolate  friends,  and  of 
the  lawyers  who  are  helping  them  to  find  you.  Their  present  pro- 
ceedings are,  in  all  probability,  assuming  the  following  form :  the 
lawyer's  clerk  has  given  you  up  at  Mr.  Huxtable's,  and  has  also,  by 


186  NO   NAME. 

this  time,  given  you  up,  after  careful  inquiry  at  all  the  hotels.  His 
last  chance  is  that  you  may  send  for  your  box  to  the  cloak-room — 
you  don't  send  for  it— and  there  the  clerk  is  to-night  (thanks  to 
Ca])tain  Wragge  and  Rosemary  Lane)  at  the  end  of  his  resources. 
He  will  forthwith  communicate  that  fact  to  his  employers  in  Lon- 
don ;  and  those  employers  (don't  be  alarmed !)  will  apply  for  help 
to  the  detective  police.  Allowing  for  inevitable  delays,  a  profes- 
sional spy,  with  all  his  wits  about  him,  and  with  those  handbills 
to  help  him  privately  in  identifying  you,  will  be  here  certainly  not 
later  than  the  day  after  to-morrow — possibly  earlier.  If  you  remain 
in  York,  if  you  attempt  to  communicate  with  Mr.  Huxtable,  that 
spy  will  find  you  out.  If,  on  the  other  hand,  you  leave  the  city  be- 
fore he  comes  (taking  your  departure  by  other  means  than  the  rail- 
way, of  course),  you  put  him  in  the  same  predicament  as  the  clerk 
— you  defy  him  to  find  a  fresh  trace  of  you.  There  is  my  brief  ab- 
stract of  your  present  position.     What  do  you  think  of  it  ?" 

"  I  think  it  has  one  defect,"  said  Magdalen.     "  It  ends  in  nothing." 

"  Pardon  me,"  retorted  the  captain.  "  It  ends  in  an  arrangement 
for  your  safe  departure,  and  in  a  plan  for  the  entire  gratification  of 
your  wishes  in  the  direction  of  the  stage.  Both  drawn  from  the  re- 
sources of  my  own  experience,  and  both  waiting  a  word  from  you, 
to  be  poured  forth  immediately  in  the  fullest  detail." 

"  I  think  I  know  what  that  word  is,"  replied  Magdalen,  looking 
at  him  attentively. 

"  Charmed  to  hear  it,  I  am  sure.  You  have  only  to  say,  '  Captain 
Wragge,  take  charge  of  me  '—and  my  plans  are  yours  from  that 
moment." 

"  I  will  take  to-night  to  consider  your  proposal,"  she  said,  after 
an  instant's  reflection.  "You  shall  have  my  auswer  to-morrow 
morning." 

Captain  Wragge  looked  a  little  disappointed.  He  had  not  ex- 
pected the  reservation  on  his  side  to  be  met  so  composedly  by  a 
reservation  on  hers. 

"  Why  not  decide  at  once  ?"  he  remonstrated,  in  his  most  persua- 
sive tones.     "  You  have  only  to  consider — " 

"  I  have  more  to  consider  than  you  think  for,"  she  answered.  "  I 
have  another  object  in  view  besides  the  object  you  know  of." 

"  May  I  ask—  ?" 

"Excuse  me,  Captain  Wragge — you  may  not  ask.  Allow  me  to 
thank  you  for  your  hospitality,  and  to  wish  you  good-night.  I  am 
worn  out.     I  want  rest." 

Once  more  the  captain  wisely  adapted  himself  to  her  humor  with 
the  ready  self-control  of  an  experienced  man. 

"  Worn  out,  of  course  !"  he  said,  sympathetically.  "  Unpardon- 
able on  my  part  not  to  have  thought  of  it  before.     We  will  resume 


NO   NAME.  187 

our  conversation  to-morrow.  Permit  me  to  give  you  a  candle.  Mrs. 
Wragge  [" 

Prostrated  by  mental  exertion,  Mrs.  Wragge  was  pursuing  the 
course  of  the  omelette  in  dreams.  Her  head  was  twisted  one  way, 
and  her  body  the  other.  She  snored  meekly.  At  intervals  one  of 
her  hands  raised  itself  in  the  air,  shook  an  imaginary  frying-pan, 
and  dropped  again  with  a  faint  thump  on  the  cookery-book  in  her 
lap.  At  the  sound  of  her  husband's  voice,  she  started  to  her  feet, 
and  confronted  him  with  her  mind  fast  asleep,  and  her  eyes  wide 
open. 

"Assist  Miss  Vanstone,"  said  the  captain.  "And  the  next  time 
you  forget  yourself  in  your  chair,  fall  asleep  straight — don't  annoy 
me  by  falling  asleep  crooked." 

Mrs.  Wragge  opened  her  eyes  a  little  wider,  and  looked  at  Mag- 
dalen in  helpless  amazement. 

"  Is  the  captain  breakfasting  by  candle-light  ?"  she  inquired,  meek- 
ly.    "  And  haven't  I  done  the  omelette  ?" 

Before  her  husband's  corrective  voice  could  apply  a  fresh  stimu- 
lant, Magdalen  took  her  comuassionately  by  the  arm  and  led  her 
out  of  the  room. 

"Another  object  besides  the  object  I  know  of?"  repeated  Captain 
Wragge,  when  he  was  left  by  himself.  "Is  there  a  gentleman  in  the 
background,  after  all  ?  Is  there  mischief  brewing  in  the  dark  that 
I  don't  bargain  for  ?" 


CHAPTER  III. 

Toward  six  o'clock  the  next  morning,  the  light  pouring  in  on 
her  face  awoke  Magdalen  in  the  bedroom  in  Rosemary  Lane. 

She  started  from  her  deep,  dreamless  repose  of  the  past  night  with 
that  painful  sense  of  bewilderment,  on  first  waking,  which  is  familiar 
to  all  sleepers  in  strange  beds.  "  Norah  !"  she  called  out  mechan- 
ically, *when  she  opened  her  eyes.  The  next  instant  her  mind 
roused  itself,  and  her  senses  told  her  the  truth.  She  looked  round 
the  miserable  room  with  a  loathing  recognition  of  it.  The  sordid 
contrast  which  the  place  presented  to  all  that  she  had  been  accus- 
tomed to  see  in  her  own  bed-chamber — the  practical  abandonment, 
implied  in  its  scanty  furniture,  of  those  elegant  purities  of  personal 
habit  to  which  she  had  been  accustomed  from  her  childhood — 
shocked  that  sense  of  bodily  self-respect  in  Magdalen  which  is  a  re- 
fined woman's  second  nature.  Contemptible  as  the  influence  seem- 
ed, when  compared  with  her  situation  at  that  moment,  the  bare 
sight  of  the  jug  and  basin  in  a  corner  of  the  room  decided  her  first 


188  NO   NAME. 

resolution  when  she  woke.  She  determined,  then  and  there,  to 
leave  Rosemary  Lane. 

How  was  she  to  leave  it  ?     With  Captain  Wragge,  or  without  him  ? 

She  dressed  herself,  with  a  dainty  shrinking  from  every  thing  in 
the  room  which  her  hands  or  her  clothes  touched  in  the  process, 
and  then  opened  the  window.  The  autumn  air  felt  keen  and  sweet; 
and  the  little  patch  of  sky  that  she  could  see  was  warmly  bright 
already  with  the  new  sunlight.  Distant  voices  of  bargemen  on  the 
river,  and  the  chirping  of  birds  among  the  weeds  which  topped  the 
old  city  wall,  were  the  only  sounds  that  broke  the  morning  silence. 
She  sat  down  by  the  window;  and  searched  her  mind  for  the 
thoughts  which  she  had  lost,  when  weariness  overcame  her  on  the 
night  before. 

The  first  subject  to  which  she  returned  was  the  vagabond  subject 
of  Captain  Wragge. 

The  "moral  agriculturist"  had  failed  to  remove  her  personal  dis- 
trust of  him,  cunningly  as  he  had  tried  to  plead  against  it  by  open- 
ly confessing  the  impostures  that  he  had  practiced  on  others.  He 
had  raised  her  opinion  of  his  abilities ;  he  had  amused  her  by  his 
humor ;  he  had  astonished  her  by  his  assurance  ;  but  he  had  left  her 
original  conviction  that  he  was  a  Rogue  exactly  where  it  was  when 
he  first  met  with  her.  If  the  one  design  then  in  her  mind  had  been 
the  design  of  going  on  the  stage,  she  would,  at  all  hazards,  have 
rejected  the  more  than  doubtful  assistance  of  Captain  Wragge  on 
the  spot. 

But  the  perilous  journey  on  which  she  had  now  adventured  her- 
self had  another  end  in  view — an  end,  dark  and  distant — an  end, 
with  pitfalls  hidden  on  the  way  to  it,  far  other  than  the  shallow 
pitfalls  on  the  way  to  the  stage.  In  the  mysterious  stillness  of  the 
morning,  her  mind  looked  on  to  its  second  and  its  deeper  design, 
and  the  despicable  figure  of  the  swindler  rose  before  her  in  a  new 
view. 

She  tried  to  shut  him  out — to  feel  above  him  and  beyond  him 
again,  as  she  had  felt  up  to  this  time. 

After  a  little  trifling  with  her  dress,  she  took  from  her  bosom  the 
white  silk  bag  which  her  own  hands  had  made  on  the  farewell 
night  at  Combe-Raven.  It  drew  together  at  the  mouth  with  deli- 
cate silken  strings.  The  first  thing  she  took  out,  on  opening  it,  was 
a  lock  of  Frank's  hair,  tied  with  a  morsel  of  silver  thread ;  the  next 
was  a  sheet  of  paper  containing  the  extracts  which  she  had  copied 
from  her  father's  will  and  her  father's  letter ;  the  last  was  a  close- 
ly-folded packet  of  bank-notes,  to  the  value  of  nearly  two  hundred 
pounds — the  produce  (as  Miss  Garth  had  rightly  conjectured)  of 
the  sale  of  her  jewelry  and  her  dresses,  in  which  the  servant  at 
the  boarding-school  had  privately  assisted  her.     She  put  back  the 


NO    NAME.  180 

notes  at  once,  without  a  second  glance  at  them,  and  then  sat  Look' 
ing  thoughtfully  at  the  lock  of  hair  as  it  lay  on  her  lap.  "  You  are 
better  than  nothing,"  she  said,  speaking  to  it  with  a  girl's  fanci- 
ful tenderness.  "  I  can  sit  and  look  at  you  sometimes,  till  I  almost 
think  I  am  looking  at  Frank.  Oh,  my  darling!  my  darling!"  Her 
voice  faltered  softly,  and  she  put  the  lock  of  hair,  with  a  languid 
gentleness,  to  her  lips.  It  fell  from  her  fingers  into  her  bosom.  A 
lovely  tinge  of  color  rose  on  her  cheeks,  and  spread  downward  to 
her  neck,  as  if  it  followed  the  falling  hair.  She  closed  her  eyes,  and 
let  her  fair  head  droop  softly.  The  world  passed  from  her;  and, 
for  one  enchanted  moment,  Love  opened  the  gates  of  Paradise  to 
the  daughter  of  Eve. 

The  trivial  noises  in  the  neighboring  street,  gathering  in  num- 
ber as  the  morning  advanced,  forced  her  back  to  the  hard  realities 
of  the  passing  time.  She  raised  her  head  with  a  heavy  sigh, 
and  opened  her  eyes  once  more  on  the  mean  and  miserable  little 
room. 

The  extracts  from  the  will  and  the  letter — those  last  memorials 
of  tier  father,  now  so  closely  associated  with  the  purpose  which  had 
possession  of  her  mind — still  lay  before  her.  The  transient  color 
faded  from  her  face,  as  she  spread  the  little  manuscript  open  on  her 
lap.  The  extracts  from  the  will  stood  highest  on  the  page;  they 
were  limited  to  those  few  touching  words,  in  which  the  dead  father 
begged  his  children's  forgiveness  for  the  stain  on  their  birth,  and 
implored  them  to  remember  the  untiring  love  and  care  by  which  he 
had  striven  to  atone  for  it.  The  extract  from  the  letter  to  Mr.  Pen- 
dril  came  next.  She  read  the  last  melancholy  sentences  aloud  to 
herself:  "  For  God's  sake  come  on  the  day  when  you  receive  this — 
come  and  relieve  me  from  the  dreadful  thought  that  my  two  dar- 
ling girls  are  at  this  moment  unprovided  for.  If  any  thing  hap- 
pened to  me,  and  if  my  desire  to  do  their  mother  justice  ended 
(through  my  miserable  ignorance  of  the  law)  in  leaving  Norah  and 
Magdalen  disinherited,  I  should  not  rest  in  my  grave !"  Under 
these  lines  again,  and  close  at  the  bottom  of  the  page,  was  written 
the  terrible  commentary  on  that  letter  which  had  fallen  from  Mr. 
Pendril's  lips:  " Mr. Vanstone's  daughters  are  Nobody's  Children, 
and  the  law  leaves  them  helpless  at  their  uncle's  mercy." 

Helpless  when  those  words  were  spoken — helpless  still,  after  all 
that  she  had  resolved,  after  all  that  she  had  sacrificed.  The  asser- 
tion of  her  natural  rights  and  her  sister's  sanctioned  by  the  direct 
expression  of  her  father's  last  wishes;  the  recall  of  Frank  from 
China ;  the  justification  of  her  desertion  of  Norah — all  hung  on  her 
desperate  purpose  of  recovering  the  lost  inheritance,  at  any  risk, 
from  the  man  who  had  beggared  and  insulted  his  brother's  chil- 
dren.    And  that  man  was  still  a  shadow  to  her !     So  little  did  she 


190  NO    NAME. 

know  of  him,  that  she  was  even  ignorant  at  that  moment  of  his 
place  of  abode. 

She  rose  and  paced  the  room  with  the  noiseless,  negligent  grace 
of  a  wild  creature  of  the  forest  in  its  cage.  "  How  can  I  reach  him 
in  the  dark  ?"  she  said  to  herself.  "  How  can  I  find  out —  ?"  She 
stopped  suddenly.  Before  the  question  had  shaped  itself  to  an  end 
in  her  thoughts,  Captain  Wragge  was  back  in  her  mind  again. 

A  man  well  used  to  working  in  the  dark ;  a  man  with  endless  re- 
sources of  audacity  and  cunning  ;  a  man  who  would  hesitate  at  no 
mean  employment  that  could  be  offered  to  him,  if  it  was  employ- 
ment that  filled  his  pockets — was  this  the  instrument  for  which,  in 
its  present  need,  her  hand  was  waiting  ?  Two  of  the  necessities  to 
be  met,  before  she  could  take  a  single  step  in  advance,  were  plainly 
present  to  her — the  necessity  of  knowing  more  of  her  father's  broth- 
er than  she  knew  now  ;  and  the  necessity  of  throwing  him  off  his 
guard  by  concealing  herself  personally  during  the  process  of  in- 
quiry. Resolutely  self-dependent  as  she  was,  the  inevitable  spy's 
work  at  the  outset  must  be  work  delegated  to  another.  In  her 
position,  was  there  any  ready  human  creature  within  reach  but  the 
vagabond  down  stairs  ?  Not  one.  She  thought  of  it  anxiously,  she 
thought  of  it  long.  Not  one  !  There  the  choice  was,  steadily  con- 
fronting her :  the  choice  of  taking  the  Rogue,  or  of  turning  her  back 
on  the  Purpose. 

She  paused  in  the  middle  of  the  room.  "What  can  he  do  at  his 
worst  ?"  she  said  to  herself.  "Cheat  me.  Well !  if  my  money  gov- 
erns him  for  me,  what  then  ?  Let  him  have  my  money !  She  re- 
turned mechanically  to  her  place  by  the  window.  A  moment  more 
decided  her.  A  moment  more,  and  she  took  the  first  fatal  step 
downward  —  she  determined  to  face  the  risk,  and  try  Captain 
Wragge. 

At  nine  o'clock  the  landlady  knocked  at  Magdalen's  door,  and 
informed  her  (with  the  captain's  kind  compliments)  that  breakfast 
was  ready. 

She  found  Mrs.  Wragge  alone,  attired  in  a  voluminous  brown  hol- 
land  wrapper,  with  a  limp  cape,  and  a  trimming  of  dingy  pink  rib- 
bon. The  ex-waitress  at  Darch's  Dining-rooms  was  absorbed  in 
the  contemplation  of  a  large  dish,  containing  a  leathery  -  looking 
substance  of  a  mottled  yellow  color,  profusely  sprinkled  with  little 
black  spots. 

"  There  it  is !"  said  Mrs.  Wragge.  "  Omelette  with  herbs.  The 
landlady  helped  me.  And  that's  what  we've  made  of  it.  Don't 
you  ask  the  captain  for  any  when  he  comes  in — don't,  there's  a  good 
soul.  It  isn't  nice.  We  had  some  accidents  with  it.  It's  been  un- 
der the  grate.    It's  been  spilled  on  the  stairs.    It's  scalded  the  land- 


NO    NAME.  191 

lady's  youngest  hoy— he  went  and  sat  on  it.  Bless  you,  it  isn't  half 
as  nice  as  it  looks !  Don't  you  ask  for  any.  Perhaps  lie  won't  no- 
tice if  you  say  nothing  about  it.  What  do  you  think  of  my  wrap- 
per? I  should  so  like  to  have  a  white  one.  Have  you  got  a  white 
one?     How  is  it  trimmed?     Do  tell  me  !" 

The  formidable  entrance  of  the  captain  suspended  the  next  ques- 
tion on  her  lips.  Fortunately  for  Mrs.  Wragge,  her  husband  was 
far  too  anxious  for  the  promised  expression  of  Magdalen's  decision 
to  pay  his  customary  attention  to  questions  of  cookery.  When 
breakfast  was  over,  he  dismissed  Mrs.  Wragge,  and  merely  referred 
to  the  omelette  by  telling  her  that  she  had  his  full  permission  to 
"  give  it  to  the  dogs." 

"  How  does  my  little  proposal  look  by  daylight  ?"  he  asked,  pla- 
cing chairs  for  Magdalen  and  himself.  "  Which  is  it  to  be  :  '  Captain 
Wragge,  take  charge  of  me  ?'  or, '  Captain  Wragge,  good-morning  ?' " 

"  You  shall  hear  directly,"  replied  Magdalen.  "  I  have  something 
to  say  first.  I  told  you,  last  night,  that  I  had  another  object  in 
view  besides  the  object  of  earning  my  living  on  the  stage — " 

"  I  beg  your  pardon,"  interposed  Captain  Wragge.  "  Did  you 
say,  earning  your  living  ?" 

"  Certainly.  Both  my  sister  and  myself  must  depend  on  our  own 
exertions  to  gain  our  daily  bread." 

"  What !  !  !"  cried  the  captain,  starting  to  his  feet.  "  The  daugh- 
ters of  my  wealthy  and  lamented  relative  by  marriage  reduced  to 
earn  their  own  living  ?  Impossible — wildly,  extravagantly  impossi- 
ble !"  He  sat  down  again,  and  looked  at  Magdalen  as  if  she  had 
inflicted  a  personal  injury  on  him. 

"  You  are  not  acquainted  with  the  full  extent  of  our  misfortune," 
she  said,  quietly.  "  I  will  tell  you  what  has  happened  before  I  go 
any  further."  She  told  him  at  once,  in  the  plainest  terms  she  could 
find,  and  with  as  few  details  as  possible. 

Captain  Wragge's  profound  bewilderment  left  him  conscious  of 
but  one  distinct  result,  produced  by  the  narrative  on  his  own  mind. 
The  lawyer's  offer  of  Fifty  Pounds  Reward  for  the  missing  young 
lady  ascended  instantly  to  a  place  in  his  estimation  which  it  had 
never  occupied  until  that  moment. 

"Do  I  understand,"  he  inquired,  "that  you  are  entirely  deprived 
of  present  resources  ?" 

"  I  have  sold  my  jewelry  and  my  dresses,"  said  Magdalen,  impa- 
tient of  his  mean  harping  on  the  pecuniary  string.  "  If  my  want 
of  experience  keeps  me  back  in  a  theatre,  I  can  afford  to  wait  till 
the  stage  can  afford  to  pay  me." 

Captain  Wragge  mentally  appraised  the  rings,  bracelets,  and  neck- 
laces, the  silks,  satins,  and  laces  of  the  daughter  of  a  gentleman  of 
fortune,  at — say,  a  third  of  their  real  value.     In  a  moment  more,  the 


192  NO    NAME. 

Fifty  Pounds  Reward  suddenly  sank  again  to  the  lowest  depths  in 
the  deep  estimation  of  this  judicious  man. 

M  Just  so,"  he  said,  in  his  most  business-like  manner.  "  There  is 
not  the  least  fear,  my  dear  girl,  of  your  being  kept  back  in  a  theatre, 
if  you  possess  present  resources,  and  if  you  profit  by  my  assistance." 

"I  must  accept  more  assistance  than  you  have  already  offered— 
or  none,"  said  Magdalen.  "  I  have  more  serious  difficulties  before 
me  than  the  difficulty  of  leaving  York,  and  the  difficulty  of  finding 
my  way  to  the  stage." 

u  You  don't  say  so  !     I  am  all  attention ;  pray  explain  yourself !" 

She  considered  her  next  words  carefully  before  they  passed  her 
lips. 

"  There  are  certain  inquiries,"  she  said,  "  which  I  am  interested 
in  making.  If  I  undertook  them  myself,  I  should  excite  the  suspi- 
cion of  the  person  inquired  after,  and  should  learn  little  or  noth- 
ing of  what  I  wish  to  know.  If  the  inquiries  could  be  made  by  a 
stranger,  without  my  being  seen  in  the  matter,  a  service  would  be 
rendered  me  of  much  greater  importance  than  the  service  you  offered 
last  night." 

Captain  Wragge's  vagabond  face  became  gravely  and  deeply  at- 
tentive. 

"  May  I  ask,"  he  said,  "  what  the  nature  of  the  inquiries  is  likely 
to  be  ?" 

Magdalen  hesitated.  She  had  necessarily  mentioned  Michael 
Vanstone's  name,  in  informing  the  captain  of  the  loss  of  her  inher- 
itance. She  must  inevitably  mention  it  to  him  again,  if  she  em- 
ployed his  services.  He  would  doubtless  discover  it  for  himself,  by 
a  plain  process  of  inference,  before  she  said  many  words  more,  feme 
them  as  carefully  as  she  might.  Under  these  circumstances,  was 
there  any  intelligible  reason  for  shrinking  from  direct  reference  to 
Michael  Vanstone?     No  intelligible  reason — and  yet  she  shrank. 

"  For  instance,"  pursued  Captain  Wragge,  "  are  they  inquiries 
about  a  man  or  a  woman ;  inquiries  about  an  enemy  or  a  Mend —  ?" 

"  An  enemy,"  she  answered,  quickly. 

Her  reply  might  still  have  kept  the  captain  in  the  dark  —  but 
her  eyes  enlightened  him.  "  Michael  Vanstone  !"  thought  the  wary 
Wragge.     "  She  looks  dangerous ;  I'll  feel  my  way  a  little  further." 

"  With  regard,  now,  to  the  person  who  is  the  object  of  these  in- 
quiries," he  resumed.  "  Are  you  thoroughly  clear  in  your  own 
mind  about  what  you  want  to  know  ?" 

"  Perfectly  clear,"  replied  Magdalen.  u  I  want  to  know  where  he 
lives,  to  begin  with  ?" 

"  Yes.     And  after  that  ?" 

"  I  want  to  know  about  his  habits ;  about  who  the  people  are, 
whom  he  associates  with ;  about  what  he  does  with  his  money — " 


NO    NAME.  193 

She  considered  a  little.  "And  one  thing  more,"  she  said;  "I  want 
to  know  whether  there  is  any  woman  about  his  house — a  relation, 
or  a  housekeeper — who  has  an  influence  over  him." 

"  Harmless  enough,  so  far,"  said  the  captain.     "  What  next  ?" 

"  Nothing.     The  rest  is  my  secret." 

The  clouds  on  Captain  Wragge's  countenance  began  to  clear  away 
again.  He  reverted,  with  his  customary  precision,  to  his  custom- 
ary choice  of  alternatives.  "  These  inquiries  of  hers,"  he  thought, 
"mean  one  of  two  things — Mischief,  or  Money!  If  it's  Mischief, 
I'll  slip  through  her  fingers.  If  it's  Money,  I'll  make  myself  useful, 
with  a  view  to  the  future." 

Magdalen's  vigilant  eyes  watched  the  progress  of  his  reflections 
suspiciously.  "  Captain  Wragge,"  she  said,  "  if  you  want  time  to 
consider,  say  so  plainly." 

"  I  don't  want  a  moment,"  replied  the  captain.  "  Place  your  de- 
parture from  York,  your  dramatic  career,  and  your  private  inquiries 
under  my  care.  Here  I  am,  unreservedly  at  your  disposal.  Say  the 
word — do  you  take  me  ?" 

Her  heart  beat  fast ;  her  lips  turned  dry — but  she  said  the  word. 

"  I  do." 

There  was  a  pause.  Magdalen  sat  silent,  struggling  with  the 
vague  dread  of  the  future  which  had  been  roused  in  her  mind  by 
her  own  reply.  Captain  Wragge,  on  his  side,  was  apparently  ab- 
sorbed in  the  consideration  of  a  new  set  of  alternatives.  His  hands 
descended  into  his  empty  pockets,  and  prophetically  tested  their 
capacity  as  receptacles  for  gold  and  silver.  The  brightness  of  the 
precious  metals  was  in  his  face,  the  smoothness  of  the  precious  met- 
als was  in  his  voice,  as  he  provided  himself  with  a  new  supply  of 
words,  and  resumed  the  conversation. 

"  The  next  question,"  he  said,  "  is  the  question  of  time.  Do  these 
confidential  investigations  of  ours  require  immediate  attention — or 
can  they  wait  ?" 

"  For  the  present,  they  can  wait,"  replied  Magdalen.  "  I  wish  to 
secure  my  freedom  from  all  interference  on  the  part  of  my  friends 
before  the  inquiries  are  made." 

"  Very  good.  The  first  step  toward  accomplishing  that  object  is 
to  beat  our  retreat — excuse  a  professional  metaphor  from  a  milita- 
ry man — to  beat  our  retreat  from  York  to-morrow.  I  see  my  way 
plainly  so  far;  but  I  am  all  abroad,  as  we  used  to  say  in  the  militia, 
about  my  marching  orders  afterward.  The  next  direction  we  take 
ought  to  be  chosen  with  an  eye  to  advancing  your  dramatic  views. 
I  am  all  ready,  when  I  know  what  your  views  are.  How  came  you 
to  think  of  the  theatre  at  all  ?  I  see  the  sacred  fire  burning  in  you  ; 
tell  me,  who  lit  it  ?" 

Magdalen  could  only  answer  him  in  one  way.     She  could  only 


194  NO    NAME. 

look  back  at  the  days  that  were  gone  forever,  and  tell  him  the  story 
of  her  first  step  toward  the  stage  at  Evergreen  Lodge.  Captain 
Wragge  listened  with  his  usual  politeness ;  but  he  evidently  de- 
rived no  satisfactory  impression  from  what  he  heard.  Audiences 
of  friends  were  audiences  whom  he  privately  declined  to  trust ;  and 
the  opinion  of  the  stage-manager  was  the  opinion  of  a  man  who 
spoke  with  his  fee  in  his  pocket,  and  his  eye  on  a  future  engage- 
ment. 

"  Interesting,  deeply  interesting,"  he  said,  when  Magdalen  had 
done.  "  But  not  conclusive  to  a  practical  man.  A  specimen  of 
your  abilities  is  necessary  to  enlighten  me.  I  have  been  on  the 
stage  myself;  the  comedy  of  the  Rivals  is  familiar  to  me  from  be- 
ginning to  end.  A  sample  is  all  I  want,  if  you  have  not  forgotten 
the  words — a  sample  of '  Lucy,'  and  a  sample  of '  Julia.' " 

"  I  have  not  forgotten  the  words,"  said  Magdalen,  sorrowfully ; 
"  and  I  have  the  little  books  with  me  in  which  my  dialogue  was 
written  out.  I  have  never  parted  with  ;hem  ;  they  remind  me  of  a 
time — "    Her  lip  trembled,  and  a  pang  of  the  heart-ache  silenced  her. 

"  Nervous,"  remarked  the  captain,  indulgently.  "  Not  at  all  a  bad 
sign.  The  greatest  actresses  on  the  stage  are  nervous.  Follow  their 
example,  and  get  over  it.  Where  are  the  parts  ?  Oh,  here  they  are  ! 
Very  nicely  written,  and  remarkably  clean.  I'll  give  you  the  cues — 
it  will  all  be  over  (as  the  dentists  say)  in  no  time.  Take  the  back 
drawing-room  for  the  stage,  and-  take  me  for  the  audience.  Tingle 
goes  the  bell ;  up  runs  the  curtain ;  order  in  the  gallery,  silence  in 
the  pit — enter  Lucy  !" 

She  tried  hard  to  control  herself;  she  forced  back  the  sorrow — 
the  innocent,  natural,  human  sorrow  for  the  absent  and  the  dead — 
pleading  hard  with  her  for  the  tears  that  she  refused.  Resolutely, 
with  cold,  clenched  hands,  she  tried  to  begin.  As  the  first  familiar 
words  passed  her  lips,  Frank  came  back  to  her  from  the  sea,  and  the 
face  of  her  dead  father  looked  at  her  with  the  smile  of  happy  old 
times.  The  voices  of  her  mother  and  her  sister  talked  gently  in  the 
fragrant  country  stillness,  and  the  garden  -  walks  at  Combe-Raven 
opened  once  more  on  her  view.  With  a  faint,  wailing  cry,  she  drop- 
ped into  a  chair ;  her  head  fell  forward  on  the  table,  and  she  burst 
passionately  into  tears. 

Captain  Wragge  was  on  his  feet  in  a  moment.  She  shuddered  as 
he  came  near  her,  and  waved  him  back  vehemently  with  her  hand. 
"  Leave  me  !"  she  said ;  "  leave  me  a  minute  by  myself!"  The  com- 
pliant Wragge  retired  to. the  front  room;  looked  out  of  window; 
and  whistled  under  his  breath.  "  The  family  spirit  again  !"  he  said. 
"  Complicated  by  hysterics." 

After  waiting  a  minute  or  two,  he  returned  to  make  inquiries. 

"  Is  there  any  thing  I  can  offer  you  ?"  he  asked.     "  Cold  water  ? 


NO    NAME.  195 

burned  feathers  ?  smelling-salts  ?  medical  assistance  ?  Shall  I  sum- 
mon Mrs.  Wragge  ?     Shall  we  put  it  oft"  till  to-morrow  ?" 

She  started  up,  wild  and  flushed,  with  a  desperate  self-command 
in  her  face,  with  an  angry  resolution  in  her  manner. 

"  No  !"  she  said.  "  I  must  harden  myself — and  I  will !  Sit  down 
again  and  see  me  act." 

"Bravo!"  cried  the  captain.  "Dash  at  it,  my  beauty  — and  it's 
done !" 

She  dashed  at  it,  with  a  mad  defiance  of  herself — with  a  raised 
voice,  and  a  glow  like  fever  in  her  cheeks.  All  the  artless,  girlish 
charm  of  the  performance  in  happier  and  better  days  was  gone. 
The  native  dramatic  capacity  that  was  in  her  came,  hard  and  bold, 
to  the  surface,  stripped  of  every  softening  allurement  which  had 
once  adorned  it.  She  would  have  saddened  and  disappointed  a 
man  with  any  delicacy  of  feeling.  She  absolutely  electrified  Cap- 
tain Wragge.  He  forgot  his  politeness,  he  forgot  his  long  words. 
The  essential  spirit  of  the  man's  whole  vagabond  life  burst  out  of 
him  irresistibly  in  his  first  exclamation.  "  Who  the  devil  would 
have  thought  it  ?  She  can  act,  after  all !"  The  instant  the  words 
escaped  his  lips  he  recovered  himself,  and  glided  off  into  his  ordina- 
ry colloquial  channels.  Magdalen  stopped  him  in  the  middle  of  his 
first  compliment.  "  No,"  she  said ;  "  I  have  forced  the  truth  out  of 
you  for  once.     I  want  no  more." 

"  Pardon  me,"  replied  the  incorrigible  Wragge.  "  You  want  a  lit- 
tle instruction ;  and  I  am  the  man  to  give  it  you." 

With  that  answer,  he  placed  a  chair  for  her,  and  proceeded  to  ex- 
plain himself. 

She  sat  down  in  silence.  A  sullen  indifference  began  to  show  it- 
self in  her  manner;  her  cheeks  turned  pale  again;  and  her  eyes 
looked  wearily  vacant  at  the  wall  before  her.  Captain  Wragge  no- 
ticed these  signs  of  heart-sickness  and  discontent  with  herself,  after 
the  effort  she  had  made,  and  saw  the  importance  of  rousing  her  by 
speaking,  for  once,  plainly  and  directly  to  the  point.  She  had  set  a 
new  value  on  herself  in  his  mercenary  eyes.  She  had  suggested  to 
him  a  speculation  in  her  youth,  her  beauty,  and  her  marked  ability 
for  the  stage,  which  had  never  entered  his  mind  until  he  saw  her 
act.  The  old  militia-man  was  quick  at  his  shifts.  He  and  his  plans 
had  both  turned  right  about  together  when  Magdalen  sat  down  to 
hear  what  he  had  to  say. 

"  Mr.  Huxtable's  opinion  is  my  opinion,"  he  began.  "  You  are  a 
born  actress.  But  you  must  be  trained  before  you  can  do  any  thing 
on  the  stage.  I  am  disengaged — I  am  competent — I  have  trained 
others — I  can  train  you.  Don't  trust  my  word :  trust  my  eye  to  my 
own  interests.  I'll  make  it  my  interest  to  take  pains  with  you,  and 
to  be  quick  about  it.     You  shall  pay  me  for  my  instructions  from 


196  NO    NAME. 

your  profits  on  the  stage.  Half  your  salary  for  the  first  year ;  a  third 
of  your  salary  for  the  second  year ;  and  half  the  sum  you  clear  by 
your  first  benefit  in  a  London  theatre.  What  do  you  say  to  that  ? 
Have  I  made  it  my  interest  to  push  you,  or  have  I  not  ?" 

So  far  as  appearances  went,  and  so  far  as  the  stage  went,  it  was 
plain  that  he  had  linked  his  interests  and  Magdalen's  together.  She 
briefly  told  him  so,  and  waited  to  hear  more. 

"  A  month  or  six  weeks'  study,"  continued  the  captain, "  will  give 
me  a  reasonable  idea  of  what  you  can  do  best.  All  ability  runs  in 
grooves ;  and  your  groove  remains  to  be  found.  We  can't  find  it 
here — for  we  can't  keep  you  a  close  prisoner  for  weeks  together  in 
Rosemary  Lane.  A  quiet  country  place,  secure  from  all  interference 
and  interruption,  is  the  place  we  want  for  a  month  certain.  Trust 
my  knowledge  of  Yorkshire,  and  consider  the  place  found.  I  see  no 
difficulties  anywhere,  except  the  difficulty  of  beating  our  retreat  to- 
morrow." 

"  I  thought  your  arrangements  were  made  last  night  ?"  said  Mag- 
dalen. 

"Quite  right,"  rejoined  the  captain.  "They  were  made  last 
night;  and  here  they  are.  We  can't  leave  by  railway, because  the 
lawyer's  clerk  is  sure  to  be  on  the  lookout  for  you  at  the  York 
terminus.  Very  good ;  we  take  to  the  road  instead,  and  leave  in 
our  own  carriage.  Where  the  deuce  do  we  get  it  ?  We  get  it  from 
the  landlady's  brother,  who  has  a  horse  and  chaise  which  he  lets 
out  for  hire.  That  chaise  comes  to  the  end  of  Rosemary  Lane  at 
an  early  hour  to-morrow  morning.  I  take  my  wife  and  my  niece 
out  to  show  them  the  beauties  of  the  neighborhood.  We  have  a 
picnic  hamper  with  us,  which  marks  our  purpose  in  the  public  eye. 
You  disfigure  yourself  in  a  shawl,  bonnet,  and  veil  of  Mrs.  Wragge's ; 
we  turn  our  backs  on  York;  and  away  we  drive  on  a  pleasure  trip 
for  the  day — you  and  I  on  the  front  seat,  Mrs.  Wragge  and  the  ham- 
per behind.  Good  again.  Once  on  the  high-road,  what  do  we  do  ? 
Drive  to  the  first  station  beyond  York,  northward,  southward,  or 
eastward,  as  may  be  hereafter  determined.  No  lawyer's  clerk  is 
waiting  for  you  there.  You  and  Mrs.  Wragge  get  out — first  open- 
ing the  hamper  at  a  convenient  opportunity.  Instead  of  containing 
chickens  and  Champagne,  it  contains  a  carpet-bag,  with  the  things 
you  want  for  the  night.  You  take  your  tickets  for  a  place  previous- 
ly determined  on,  and  I  take  the  chaise  back  to  York.  Arrived 
once  more  in  this  house,  T  collect  the  luggage  left  behind,  and  send 
for  the  woman  down  stairs.  '  Ladies  so  charmed  with  such-and- 
such  a  place  (wrong  place  of  course),  that  they  have  determined  to 
stop  there.  Pray  accept  the  customary  week's  rent,  in  place  of  a 
week's  warning.  Good-day.'  Is  the  clerk  looking  for  me  at  the 
York  terminus  ?     Not  he.     I  take  my  ticket  under  his  very  nose ; 


NO   NAME.  197 

I  follow  you  with  the  luggage  along  your  line  of  railway  —  and 
where  is  the  trace  left  of  your  departure?  Nowhere.  The  fairy 
lias  vanished;  and  the  legal  authorities  are  left  in  the.  lurch." 

"  Why  do  you  talk  of  difficulties  ?"  asked  Magdalen.  "  The  diffi- 
culties seem  to  be  provided  for." 

"All  but  one,"  said  Captain  Wragge,  with  an  ominous  emphasis 
on  the  last  word.  "The  Grand  Difficulty  of  humanity  from  the 
cradle  to  the  grave — Money."  He  slowly  winked  his  green  eye; 
sighed*with  deep  feeling ;  and  buried  his  insolvent  hands  in  his  un- 
productive pockets. 

"  What  is  the  money  wanted  for  ?"  inquired  Magdalen. 

"  To  pay  my  bills,"  replied  the  captain,  with  a  touching  simplici- 
ty. "  Pray  understand  !  I  never  was — and  never  shall  be — person- 
ally  desirous  of  paying  a  single  farthing  to  any  human  creature  on 
the  habitable  globe.     I  am  speaking  in  your  interest,  not  in  mine." 

"  My  interest  ?" 

"Certainly.  You  can't  get  safely  away  from  York  to-morrow 
without  the  chaise.  And  I  can't  get  the  chaise  without  money. 
The  landlady's  brother  will  lend  it  if  he  sees  his  sister's  bill  receipt- 
ed, and  if  he  gets  his  day's  hire  beforehand — not  otherwise.  Allow 
me  to  put  the  transaction  in  a  business  light.  We  have  agreed  that 
I  am  to  be  remunerated  for  my  course  of  dramatic  instruction  out 
of  your  future  earnings  on  the  stage.  Very  good.  I  merely  draw 
on  my  future  prospects ;  and  you,  on  whom  those  prospects  depend, 
are  naturally  my  banker.  For  mere  argument's  sake,  estimate  my 
share  in  your  first  year's  salary  at  the  totally  inadequate  value  of  a 
hundred  pounds.     Halve  that  sum ;  quarter  that  sum — " 

"  How  much  do  you  want  ?"  said  Magdalen,  impatiently. 

Captain  Wragge  was  sorely  tempted  to  take  the  Reward  at  the 
top  of  the  handbills  as  his  basis  of  calculation.  But  he  felt  the 
vast  future  importance  of  present  moderation ;  and  actually  want- 
ing some  twelve  or  thirteen  pounds,  he  merely  doubled  the  amount, 
and  said, "  Five-and-twenty." 

Magdalen  took  the  little  bag  from  her  bosom,  and  gave  him  the 
money,  with  a  contemptuous  wonder  at  the  number  of  words  which 
he  had  wasted  on  her  for  the  purpose  of  cheating  on  so  small  a 
scale.  In  the  old  days  at  Combe-Raven,  five-and-twenty  pounds 
flowed  from  a  stroke  of  her  father's  pen  into  the  hands  of  any  one 
in  the  house  who  chose  to  ask  for  it. 

Captain  Wragge's  eyes  dwelt  on  the  little  bag  as  the  eyes  of 
lovers  dwell  on  their  mistresses.  "  Happy  bag !"  he  murmured,  as 
she  put  it  back  in  her  bosom.  He  rose ;  dived  into  a  corner  of  the 
room ;  produced  his  neat  dispatch-box ;  and  solemnly  unlocked  it 
on  the  table  between  Magdalen  and  himself. 

"  The  nature  of  the  man,  my  dear  girl — the  nature  of  the  man," 


198  NO   NAME. 

he  said,  opening  one  of  his  plump  little  books  bound  in  calf  and 
vellum.  UA  transaction  has  taken  place  between  us.  I  must  have 
it  down  in  black  and  white."  He  opened  the  book  at  a  blank  page, 
and  wrote  at  the  top,  in  a  fine  mercantile  hand :  "  Miss  Veinstone, 
the  Younger :  In  account  with  Horatio  Wragge,  kite  of  the  Royal  Mi- 
litia. DT—Cr-  Sept.  24th,  1846.  Dr  :  To  estimated  value  of  H. 
Wragge" s  interest  in  Miss  V.'s  first  year's  salary — say  £200.  CT-  By 
paid  on  account,  £25."  Having  completed  the  entry — and  having 
also  shown,  by  doubling  his  original  estimate  on  the  Debtor  side, 
that  Magdalen's  easy  compliance  with  his  demand  on  her  had  not 
been  thrown  away  on  him — the  captain  pressed  his  blotting-paper 
over  the  wet  ink,  and  put  away  the  book  with  the  air  of  a  man  who 
had  done  a  virtuous  action,  and  who  was  above  boasting  about  it. 

"  Excuse  me  for  leaving  you  abruptly,"  he  said.  "  Time  is  of  im- 
portance ;  I  must  make  sure  of  the  chaise.  If  Mrs.  Wragge  comes 
in,  tell  her  nothing — she  is  not  sharp  enough  to  be  trusted.  If  she 
presumes  to  ask  questions,  extinguish  her  immediately.  You  have 
only  to  be  loud.  Pray  take  my  authority  into  your  own  hands,  and 
be  as  loud  with  Mrs.  Wragge  as  I  am  !"  He  snatched  up  his  tall 
hat,  bowed,  smiled,  and  tripped  out  of  the  room. 

Sensible  of  little  else  but  of  the  relief  of  being  alone  ;  feeling 
no  more  distinct  impression  than  the  vague  sense  of  some  serious 
change  having  taken  place  in  herself  and  her  position,  Magdalen  let 
the  events  of  the  morning  come  and  go  like  shadows  on  her  mind, 
and  waited  wearily  for  what  the  day  might  bring  forth.  After  the 
lapse  of  some  time,  the  door  opened  softly.  The  giant  figure  of 
Mrs.  Wragge  stalked  into  the  room,  and  stopped  opposite  Magdalen 
in  solemn  astonishment. 

"  Where  are  your  Things  ?"  asked  Mrs.  Wragge,  with  a  burst  of 
incontrollable  anxiety.  "  I've  been  up  stairs  looking  in  your 
drawers.  Where  are  your  night-gowns  and  night-caps  ?  and  your 
petticoats  and  stockings  ?  and  your  hair-pins  and  bear's  grease,  and 
all  the  rest  of  it  ?" 

"  My  luggage  is  left  at  the  railway  station,"  said  Magdalen. 

Mrs.  Wragge's  moon-face  brightened  dimly.  The  ineradicable  fe- 
male instinct  of  Curiosity  tried  to  sparkle  in  her  faded  blue  eyes — 
flickered  piteously — and  died  out. 

"  How  much  luggage  ?"  she  asked,  confidentially.  "  The  cap- 
tain's gone  out.     Let's  go  and  get  it !" 

"Mrs.  Wragge !"  cried  a  terrible  voice  at  the  door. 

For  the  first  time  in  Magdalen's  experience,  Mrs.  Wragge  was 
deaf  to  the  customary  stimulant.  She  actually  ventured  on  a  feeble 
remonstrance  in  the  presence  of  her  husband. 

"  Oh,  do  let  her  have  her  Things  !"  pleaded  Mrs.  Wragge.  "  Oh, 
poor  soul,  do  let  her  have  her  Things  !" 


NO    NAME.  199 

The  captain's  inexorable  forefinger  pointed  to  a  corner  of  the 
room — dropped  slowly  as  his  wife  retired  before  it — and  suddenly 
stopped  at  the  region  of  her  shoes. 

"  Do  I  hear  a  clapping  on  the  floor !"  exclaimed  Captain  Wragge, 
with  an  expression  of  horror.  "  Yes ;  I  do.  Down  at  heel  again  ! 
The  left  shoe  this  time.  Pull  it  up,  Mrs.  Wragge  !  pull  it  up  !  The 
chaise  will  be  here  to-morrow  morning  at  nine  o'clock,"  he  con- 
tinued, addressing  Magdalen.  "  We  can't  possibly  venture  on 
claiming  your  box.  There  is  note-paper.  Write  down  a  list  of  the 
necessaries  you  want.  I  will  take  it  myself  to  the  shop,  pay  the 
bill  for  you,  and  bring  back  the  parcel.  We  must  sacrifice  the  box 
— we  must,  indeed." 

While  her  husband  was  addressing  Magdalen,  Mrs.  Wragge  had 
stolen  out  again  from  her  corner,  and  had  ventured  near  enough 
to  the  captain  to  hear  the  words  "  shop  "  and  "  parcel."  She  clap- 
ped her  great  hands  together  in  ungovernable  excitement,  and  lost 
all  control  over  herself  immediately. 

"  Oh,  if  it's  shopping,  let  me  do  it !"  cried  Mrs.  Wragge.  "She's 
going  out  to  buy  her  Things  !  Oh,  let  me  go  with  her — please  let 
me  go  with  her !" 

"  Sit  down !"  shouted  the  captain.  "  Straight !  more  to  the  right 
—more  still.     Stop  where  you  are !" 

Mrs.  Wragge  crossed  her  helpless  hands  on  her  lap,  and  melted 
meekly  into  tears. 

"  I  do  so  like  shopping,"  pleaded  the  poor  creature ;  "  and  I  get 
so  little  of  it  now  !" 

Magdalen  completed  her  list;  and  Captain  Wragge  at  once  left 
the  room  with  it.  "  Don't  let  my  wife  bore  you,"  he  said,  pleasantly, 
as  he  went  out.     "  Cut  her  short,  poor  soul — cut  her  short !" 

"  Don't  cry,"  said  Magdalen,  trying  to  comfort  Mrs.  Wragge  by 
patting  her  on  the  shoulder.  "  When  the  parcel  comes  back  you 
shall  open  it." 

"  Thank  you,  my  dear,"  said  Mrs.  Wragge,  meekly,  drying  her 
eyes ;  "  thank  you  kindly.  Don't  notice  my  handkerchief,  please. 
It's  such  a  very  little  one  !  I  had  a  nice  lot  of  them  once,  with  lace 
borders.  They're  all  gone  now.  Never  mind !  It  will  comfort  me 
to  unpack  your  Things.  You're  very  good  to  me.  I  like  you.  I 
say — you  won't  be  angry,  will  you  ?     Give  us  a  kiss." 

Magdalen  stooped  over  her  with  the  frank  grace  and  gentleness 
of  past  days,  and  touched  her  faded  cheek.  "  Let  me  do  something 
harmless !"  she  thought,  with  a  pang  at  her  heart — "  oh  let  me  do 
something  innocent  and  kind,  for  the  sake  of  old  times !" 

She  felt  her  eyes  moistening,  and  silently  turned  away. 

That  night  no  rest  came  to  her.  That  night  the  roused  forces  of 
Good  and  Evil  fought  their  terrible  fight  for  her  soul — and  left  the 


200  NO   NAME. 

strife  between  them  still  in  suspense  when  morning  came.  As  the 
clock  of  York  Minster  struck  nine,  she  followed  Mrs.  Wragge  to 
the  chaise,  and  took  her  seat  by  the  captain's  side.  In  a  quarter  of 
an  hour  more  York  was  in  the  distance,  and  the  high-road  lay  bright 
and  open  before  them  in  the  morning  sunlight. 

THE  END  OF  THE  SECOND  SCENE. 


BETWEEN   THE    SCENES. 

CHRONICLE  OF  EVENTS :   PRESERVED  IN  CAPTAIN  WRAGGE'S 
DISPATCH-BOX. 


Chronicle  for  October,  1846. 

I  have  retired  into  the  bosom  of  my  family.  We  are  residing  in 
the  secluded  village  of  Ruswarp,  on  the  banks  of  the  Esk,  about  two 
miles  inland  from  Whitby.  Our  lodgings  are  comfortable,  and  we 
possess  the  additional  blessing  of  a  tidy  landlady.  Mrs.  Wragge 
and  Miss  Vanstone  preceded  me  here,  in  accordance  with  the  plan 
I  laid  down  for  effecting  our  retreat  from  York.  On  the  next  day 
I  followed  them  alone,  with  the  luggage.  On  leaving  the  terminus, 
I  had  the  satisfaction  of  seeing  the  lawyer's  clerk  in  close  confabu- 
lation with  the  detective  officer  whose  advent  I  had  prophesied.  I 
left  him  in  peaceable  possession  of  the  city  of  York,  and  the  whole 
surrounding  neighborhood.  He  has  returned  the  compliment,  and 
has  left  us  in  peaceable  possession  of  the  valley  of  the  Esk,  thirty 
miles  away  from  him. 

Remarkable  results  have  followed  my  first  efforts  at  the  cultiva- 
tion of  Miss  Vanstone's  dramatic  abilities. 

I  have  discovered  that  she  possesses  extraordinary  talent  as  a 
mimic.  She  has  the  flexible  face,  the  manageable  voice,  and  the 
dramatic  knack  which  fit  a  woman  for  character-parts  and  disguises 
on  the  stage.  All  she  now  wants  is  teaching  and  practice,  to  make 
her  sure  of  her  own  resources.  The  experience  of  her,  thus  gained, 
has  revived  an  idea  in  my  mind  which  originally  occurred  to  me 
at  one  of  the  "At  Homes  "of  the  late  inimitable  Charles  Mathews, 
comedian.  I  was  in  the  Wine  Trade  at  the  time,  I  remember.  We 
imitated  the  Vintage -processes  of  Nature  in  a  back -kitchen  at 
Brompton,  and  produced  a  dinner  sherry,  pale  and  curious,  tonic 
in  character,  round  in  the  mouth,  a  favorite  with  the  Court  of  Spain, 
at  nineteen-and-sixpence  a  dozen,  bottles  included — Vide  Prospectus 


NO   NA5PE.  201 

of  the  period.  The  profits  of  myself  and  partners  were  small ;  we 
were  in  advance  of  the  tastes  of  the  age,  and  in  debt  to  the  bottle 
merchant.  Being  at  my  wits'  end  for  want  of  money,  and  seeing 
what  audiences  Mathews  drew,  the  idea  occurred  to  me  of  starting 
an  imitation  of  the  great  Imitator  himself,  in  the  shape  of  an  "  At 
Home,"  given  by  a  woman.  The  one  trifling  obstacle  in  the  way 
was  the  difficulty  of  finding  the  woman.  From  that  time  to  this, 
I  have  hitherto  failed  to  overcome  it.  I  have  conquered  it  at  last : 
I  have  found  the  woman  now.  Miss  Vanstone  possesses  youth  and 
beauty  as  well  as  talent.  Train  her  in  the  art  of  dramatic  disguise ; 
provide  her  with  appropriate  dresses  for  different  characters;  de- 
velop her  accomplishments  in  singing  and  playing ;  give  her  plenty 
of  smart  talk  addressed  to  the  audience ;  advertise  her  as  a  Young 
Lady  at  Home;  astonish  the  public  by  a  dramatic  entertainment 
which  depends  from  first  to  last  on  that  young  lady's  own  sole  ex- 
ertions ;  commit  the  entire  management  of  the  thing  to  my  care — 
and  what  follows  as  a  necessary  consequence?  Fame  for  my  fair 
relative,  and  a  fortune  for  myself. 

I  put  these  considerations,  as  frankly  as  usual,  to  Miss  Vanstone ; 
offering  to  write  the  Entertainment,  to  manage  all  the  business,  and 
to  share  the  profits.  I  did  not  forget  to  strengthen  my  case  by  in- 
forming her  of  the  jealousies  she  would  encounter,  and  the  obstacles 
she  would  meet,  if  she  went  on  the  stage.  And  I  wound  up  by  a 
neat  reference  to  the  private  inquiries  which  she  is  interested  in 
making,  and  to  the  personal  independence  which  she  is  desirous  of 
securing  before  she  acts  on  her  information.  "  If  you  go  on  the 
stage,"  I  said,  "  your  services  will  be  bought  by  a  manager,  and  he 
may  insist  on  his  claims  just  at  the  time  when  you  want  to  get  free 
from  him.  If,  on  the  contrary,  you  adopt  my  views,  you  will  be 
your  own  mistress  and  your  own  manager,  and  you  can  settle  your 
course  just  as  you  like."  This  last  consideration  appeared  to  strike 
her.  She  took  a  day  to  consider  it ;  and,  when  the  day  was  over, 
gave  her  consent. 

I  had  the  whole  transaction  down  in  black  and  white  immediate- 
ly. Our  arrangement  is  eminently  satisfactory,  except  in  one  par- 
ticular. She  shows  a  morbid  distrust  of  writing  her  name  at  the 
bottom  of  any  document  which  I  present  to  her,  and  roundly  de- 
clares she  will  sign  nothing.  As  long  as  it  is  her  interest  to  provide 
herself  with  pecuniary  resources  for  the  future,  she  verbally  engages 
to  go  on.  When  it  ceases  to  be  her  interest,  she  plainly  threatens 
to  leave  off  at  a  week's  notice.  A  difficult  girl  to  deal  with :  she 
has  found  out  her  own  value  to  me  already.  One  comfort  is,  I  have 
the  cooking  of  the  accounts ;  and  my  fair  relative  shall  not  fill  her 
pockets  too  suddenly  if  I  can  help  it. 

My  exertions  in  training  Miss  Vanstone  for  the  coming  experiment 


202  NO   NAME. 

have  been  varied  by  the  writing  of  two  anonymous  letters  in  that 
young  lady's  interests.  Finding  her  too  fidgety  about  arranging 
matters  with  her  friends  to  pay  proper  attention  to  my  instructions, 
I  wrote  anonymously  to  the  lawyer  who  is  conducting  the  inquiry 
after  her,  recommending  him,  in  a  friendly  way,  to  give  it  up.  The 
letter  was  inclosed  to  a  friend  of  mine  in  London,  with  instructions 
to  post  it  at  Charing  Cross.  A  week  later  I  sent  a  second  letter, 
through  the  same  channel,  requesting  the  lawyer  to  inform  me,  in 
writing,  whether  he  and  his  clients  had  or  had  not  decided  on  tak- 
ing my  advice.  I  directed  him,  with  jocose  reference  to  the  collision 
of  interests  between  us,  to  address  his  letter :  "  Tit  for  Tat,  Post- 
office,  West  Strand."  » 

In  a  few  days  the  answer  arrived — privately  forwarded,  of  course, 
to  Post-office,  Whitby,  by  arrangement  with  my  friend  in  London. 

The  lawyer's  reply  was  short  and  surly  :  "  Sir,— If  my  advice  had 
been  followed,  you  and  your  anonymous  letter  would  both  be  treat- 
ed with  the  contempt  which  they  deserve.  But  the  wishes  of  Miss 
Magdalen  Vanstone's  eldest  sister  have  claims  on  my  consideration 
which  I  can  not  dispute ;  and  at  her  entreaty  I  inform  you  that  all 
further  proceedings  on  my  part  are  withdrawn — on  the  express  un- 
derstanding that  this  concession  is  to  open  facilities  for  written 
communication,  at  least,  between  the  two  sisters.  A  letter  from  the 
elder  Miss  Vanstone  is  inclosed  in  this.  If  I  don't  hear  jn  a  week's 
time  that  it  has  been  received,  I  shall  place  the  matter  once  more 
in  the  hands  of  the  police. — William  Pendril."  A  sour  man,  this 
William  Pendril.  I  can  only  say  of  him  what  an  eminent  nobleman 
once  said  of  his  sulky  servant — "  I  wouldn't  have  such  a  temper  as 
that  fellow  has  got  for  any  earthly  consideration  that  could  be  of- 
fered me !" 

As  a  matter  of  course,  I  looked  into  the  letter  which  the  lawyer 
inclosed,  before  delivering  it.  Miss  Vanstone,  the  elder,  described 
herself  as  distracted  at  not  hearing  from  her  sister ;  as  suited  with 
a  governess's  situation  in  a  private  family ;  as  going  into  the  situa- 
tion in  a  week's  time ;  and  as  longing  for  a  letter  to  comfort  her, 
before  she  faced  the  trial  of  undertaking  her  new  duties.  After 
closing  the  envelope  again,  I  accompanied  the  delivery  of  the  letter 
to  Miss  Vanstone,  the  younger,  by  a  word  of  caution.  "  Are  you 
more  sure  of  your  own  courage  now,"  I  said,  "  than  you  were  when 
I  met  you  ?"  She  was  ready  with  her  answer.  "  Captain  Wragge, 
when  you  met  me  on  the  Walls  of  York,  I  had  not  gone  too  far  to 
go  back.     I  have  gone  too  far  now." 

If  she  really  feels  this— and  I  think  she  does — her  corresponding 
with  her  sister  can  do  no  harm.  She  wrote  at  great  length  the 
same  day;  cried  profusely  over  her  own  epistolary  composition ; 
and  was  remarkably  ill-tempered  and  snappish  toward  me,  when 


NO   NAME.  203 

we  met  in  the  evening.  She  wants  experience,  poor  girl — she  sadly 
wants  experience  of  the  world.  How  consoling  to  know  that  I  am 
just  the  man  to  give  it  her ! 

II. 

Chronicle  for  November. 

We  are  established  at  Derby.  The  Entertainment  is  written; 
and  the  rehearsals  are  in  steady  progress.  All  difficulties  are  pro- 
vided for,  but  the  one  eternal  difficulty  of  money.  Miss  Vanstone's 
resources  stretch  easily  enough  to  the  limits  of  our  personal  wants ; 
including  piano-forte  hire  for  practice,  and  the  purchase  and  making 
of  the  necessary  dresses.  But  the  expenses  of  starting  the  Enter- 
tainment are  beyond  the  reach  of  any  means  we  possess.  A  theatric- 
al friend  of  mine  here,  whom  I  had  hoped  to  interest  in  our  under- 
taking, proves,  unhappily,  to  be  at  a  crisis  in  his  career.  The  field 
of  human  sympathy,  out  of  which  I  might  have  raised  the  needful 
pecuniary  crop,  is  closed  to  me  from  want  of  time  to  cultivate  it. 
I  see  no  other  resource  left — if  we  are  to  be  ready  by  Christmas — 
than  to  try  one  of  the  local  music-sellers  in  this  town,  who  is  said 
to  be  a  speculating  man.  A  private  rehearsal  at  these  lodgings,  and 
a  bargain  which  will  fill  the  pockets  of  a  grasping  stranger — such 
are  the  sacrifices  which  dire  necessity  imposes  on  me  at  starting. 
Well !  there  is  only  one  consolation :  I'll  cheat  the  music-seller. 

III. 

Chronicle  for  December.     First  Fortnight. 

The  music-seller  extorts  my  unwilling  respect.  He  is  one  of  the 
very  few  human  beings  I  have  met  with  in  the  course  of  my  life 
who  is  not  to  be  cheated.  He  has  taken  a  masterly  advantage  of 
our  helplessness ;  and  has  imposed  terms  on  us,  for  performances  at 
Derby  and  Nottingham,  with  such  a  business-like  disregard  of  all 
interests  but  his  own,  that — fond  as  I  am  of  putting  things  down  in 
black  and  white — I  really  can  not  prevail  upon  myself  to  record  the 
bargain.  It  is  needless  to  say,  I  have  yielded  with  my  best  grace ; 
sharing  with  my  fair  relative  the  wretched  pecuniary  prospects  of- 
fered to  us.  Our  turn  will  come.  In  the  mean  time,  I  cordially  re- 
gret not  having  known  the  local  music-seller  in  early  life. 

Personally  speaking,  I  have  no  cause  to  complain  of  Miss  Van- 
stone.  We  have  arranged  that  she  shall  regularly  forward  her  ad- 
dress (at  the  post-office)  to  her  friends,  as  we  move  about  from  place 
to  plaoe.  Besides  communicating  in  this  way  with  her  sister,  she 
also  reports  herself  to  a  certain  Mr.  Clare,  residing  in  Somersetshire, 
who  is  to  forward  all  letters  exchanged  between  herself  and  his  son. 


204  NO    NAME. 

Careful  inquiry  has  informed  me  that  this  latter  individual  is  now 
in  China.  Having  suspected  from  the  first  that  there  was  a  gentle- 
man in  the  background,  it  is  highly  satisfactory  to  know  that  he 
recedes  into  the  remote  perspective  of  Asia.  Long  may  he  remain 
there ! 

The  trifling  responsibility  of  finding  a  name  for  our  talented  Mag- 
dalen to  perform  under  has  been  cast  on  my  shoulders.  She  feels 
no  interest  whatever  in  this  part  of  the  subject.  "  Give  me  any 
name  you  like,"  she  said ;  "  I  have  as  much  right  to  one  as  to  an- 
other. Make  it  yourself."  I  have  readily  consented  to  gratify  her 
wishes.  The  resources  of  my  commercial  library  include  a  list  of 
useful  names  to  assume ;  and  we  can  choose  one  at  five  minutes1  no- 
tice, when  the  admirable  man  of  business  who  now  oppresses  us  is 
ready  to  issue  his  advertisements.  On  this  point  my  mind  is  easy 
enough :  all  my  anxieties  centre  in  the  fair  performer.  I  have  not 
the  least  doubt  she  will  do  wonders  if  she  is  only  left  to  herself  on 
the  first  night.  But  if  the  day's  post  is  mischievous  enough  to  up- 
set her  by  a  letter  from  her  sister,  I  tremble  for  the  consequences. 

IV. 

Chronicle  for  December.     Second  Fortnight. 

My  gifted  relative  has  made  her  first  appearance  in  public,  and 
has  laid  the  foundation  of  our  future  fortunes. 

On  the  first  night,  the  attendance  was  larger  than  I  had  ventured 
to  hope.  The  novelty  of  an  evening's  entertainment,  conducted  from 
beginning  to  end  by  the  unaided  exertions  of  a  young  lady  (see  ad- 
vertisement), roused  the  public  curiosity,  and  the  seats  were  moder- 
ately well  filled.  As  good  luck  would  have  it,  no  letter  addressed 
to  Miss  Vanstone  came  that  day.  She  was  in  full  possession  of  her- 
self until  she  got  the  first  dress  on  and  heard  the  bell  ring  for  the 
music.  At  that  critical  moment  she  suddenly  broke  down.  I  found 
her  alone  in  the  waiting-room,  sobbing,  and  talking  like  a  child. 
"  Oh,  poor  papa  !  poor  papa !  Oh,  my  God,  if  he  saw  me  now !"  My 
experience  in  such  matters  at  once  informed  me  that  it  was  a  case 
of  sal-volatile,  accompanied  by  sound  advice.  "We  strung  her  up  in 
no  time  to  concert  pitch ;  set  her  eyes  in  a  blaze ;  and  made  her 
out-blush  her  own  rouge.  The  curtain  rose  when  we  had  got  her 
at  a  red  heat.  She  dashed  at  it  exactly  as  she  dashed  at  it  in  the 
back  drawing-room  at  Rosemary  Lane.  Her  personal  appearance 
settled  the  question  of  her  reception  before  she  opened  her  lips.  She 
rushed  full  gallop  through  her  changes  of  character,  her  songs,  and 
her  dialogue;  making  mistakes  by  the  dozen,  and  never  stopping 
to  set  them  right ;  carrying  the  people  along  with  her  in  a  perfect 
whirlwind,  and  never  waiting  for  the  applause.     The  whole  thing 


NO    NAME.  205 

was  over  twenty  minutes  sooner  than  the  time  we  had  calculated  on. 

(She  carried  it  through  to  the  end,  and  tainted  on  the  waiting-room 
sofa  a  minute  after  the  curtain  was  down.  The  music-seller  having 
taken  leave  of  his  senses  from  sheer  astonishment,  and  I  having  no 
evening  costume  to  appear  in,  we  sent  the  doctor  to  make  the  neces- 
sary apology  to  the  public,  who  were  calling  for  her  till  the  place 
rang  again.  I  prompted  our  medical  orator  with  a  neat  speech  from 
behind  the  curtain;  and  I  never  heard  such  applause,  from  such  a 
comparatively  small  audience,  before  in  my  life.  I  felt  the  tribute — 
I  felt  it  deeply.  Fourteen  years  ago  I  scraped  together  the  wretched 
means  of  existence  in  this  very  town  by  reading  the  newspaper  (with 
explanatory  comments)  to  the  company  at  a  public-house.  And  now 
here  I  am  at  the  top  of  the  tree. 

It  is  needless  to  say  that  my  first  proceeding  was  to  bowl  out  the 
music -seller  on  the  spot.  He  called  the  next  morning,  no  doubt 
with  a  liberal  proposal  for  extending  the  engagement  beyond  Derby 
and  Nottingham.  My  niece  was  described  as  not  well  enough  to 
see  him ;  and,  when  he  asked  for  me,  he  was  told  I  was  not  up.  I 
happened  to  be  at  that  moment  engaged  in  putting  the  case  pa- 
thetically to  our  gifted  Magdalen.  Her  answer  was  in  the  highest 
degree  satisfactory.  She  would  permanently  engage  herself  to  no- 
body— least  of  all  to  a  man  who  had  taken  sordid  advantage  of  her 
position  and  mine.  She  would  be  her  own  mistress,  and  share  the 
profits  with  me,  while  she  wanted  money,  and  while  it  suited  her  to 
go  on.  So  far  so  good.  But  the  reason  she  added  next,  for  her  flat- 
tering preference  of  myself,  was  less  to  my  taste.  "  The  music-sell- 
er is  not  the  man  whom  I  employ  to  make  my  inquiries,"  she  said. 
"  You  are  the  man."  I  don't  like  her  steadily  remembering  those 
inquiries,  in  the  first  bewilderment  of  her  success.  It  looks  ill  for 
the  future ;  it  looks  infernally  ill  for  the  future. 

V. 

Chronicle  for  January,  1847. 

She  has  shown  the  cloven  foot  already.  I  begin  to  be  a  little 
afraid  of  her. 

On  the  conclusion  of  the  Nottingham  engagement  (the  results  of 
which  more  than  equaled  the  results  at  Derby),  I  proposed  taking 
the  entertainment  next — now  we  had  got  it  into  our  own  hands — to 
Newark.  Miss  Vanstone  raised  no  objection  until  we  came  to  the 
question  of  time,  when  she  amazed  me  by  stipulating  for  a  week's 
delay  before  we  appeared  in  public  again. 

"  For  what  possible  purpose  !"  I  asked. 

"  For  the  purpose  of  making  the  inquiries  which  I  mentioned  to 
you  at  York,"  she  answered. 


206  NO   NAME. 

I  instantly  enlarged  on  the  danger  of  delay,  putting  all  the  con- 
siderations before  her  in  every  imaginable  form.  She  remained  per- 
fectly immovable.  I  tried  to  shake  her  on  the  question  of  expenses. 
She  answered  by  handing  me  over  her  share  of  the  proceeds  at  Der- 
by and  Nottingham — and  there  were  my  expenses  paid,  at  the  rate 
of  nearly  two  guineas  a  day.  I  wonder  who  first  picked  out  a  mule 
as  the  type  of  obstinacy  ?  How  little  knowledge  that  man  must 
have  had  of  women ! 

There  was  no  help  for  it.  I  took  down  my  instructions  in  black 
and  white,  as  usual.  My  first  exertions  were  to  be  directed  to  the 
discovery  of  Mr.  Michael  Vanstone's  address :  I  was  also  expected 
to  find  out  how  long  he  was  likely  to  live  there,  and  whether  he  had 
sold  Combe-Raven  or  not.  My  next  inquiries  were  to  inform  me  of 
his  ordinary  habits  of  life ;  of  what  he  did  with  his  money ;  of  who 
his  intimate  friends  were ;  and  of  the  sort  of  terms  on  which  his  son, 
Mr.  Noel  Vanstone,  was  now  living  with  him.  Lastly,  the  investiga- 
tions were  to  end  in  discovering  whether  there  was  any  female  rel- 
ative, or  any  woman  exercising  domestic  authority  in  the  house,  who 
was  known  to  have  an  influence  over  either  father  or  son. 

If  my  long  practice  in  cultivating  the  field  of  human  sympathy 
had  not  accustomed  me  to  private  investigations  into  the  affairs  of 
other  people,  I  might  have  found  some  of  these  queries  rather  diffi- 
cult to  deal  with  in  the  course  of  a  week.  As  it  was,  I  gave  myself 
all  the  benefit  of  my  own  experience,  and  brought  the  answers  back 
to  Nottingham  in  a  day  less  than  the  given  time.  Here  they  are, 
in  regular  order,  for  convenience  of  future  reference : 

(1.)  Mr.  Michael  Vanstone  is  now  residing  at  German  Place, 
Brighton,  and  likely  to  remain  there,  as  he  finds  the  air  suits  him. 
He  reached  London  from  Switzerland  in  September  last;  and  sold 
the  Combe-Raven  property  immediately  on  his  arrival. 

(2.)  His  ordinary  habits  of  life  are  secret  and  retired  ;  he  seldom 
visits,  or  receives  company.  Part  of  his  money  is  supposed  to  be  in 
the  funds,  and  part  laid  out  in  railway  investments,  which  have  sur- 
vived the  panic  of  eighteen  hundred  and  forty-six,  and  are  rapidly 
rising  in  value.  He  is  said  to  be  a  bold  speculator.  Since  his  ar- 
rival in  England  he  has  invested,  with  great  judgment,  in  house 
property.  He  has  some  houses  in  remote  parts  of  London,  and 
some  houses  in  certain  watering-places  on  the  east  coast,  which  are 
shown  to  be  advancing  in  public  repute.  In  all  these  cases  he  is 
reported  to  have  made  remarkably  good  bargains. 

(3.)  It  is  not  easy  to  discover  who  his  intimate  friends  are.  Two 
names  only  have  been  ascertained.  Tlie  first  is  Admiral  Bartram; 
supposed  to  have  been  under  friendly  obligations,  in  past  years,  to 
Mr.  Michael  Vanstone.  The  second  is  Mr.  George  Bartram,  nephew 
of  the  Admiral,  and  now  staying  on  a  short  visit  in  the  house  at 


NO    NAME. 


207 


German  Place.  Mr.  George  Bartrarn  is  the  son  of  the  late  Mr.  An- 
drew Vanstone's  sister,  also  deceased.  He  is  therefore  a  cousin  of 
Mr.  Noel  Vanstone's.  This  last — viz.,  Mr.  Noel  Vanstone — is  in  del- 
icate health,  and  is  living  on  excellent  terms  with  his  father  in  Ger- 
man Place. 

(4.)  There  is  no  female  relative  in  Mr.  Michael  Vanstone's  family 
circle.  But  there  is  a  housekeeper  who  has  lived  in  his  service  ever 
since  his  wife's  death,  and  who  has  acquired  a  strong  influence  over 
both  father  and  son.  She  is  a  native  of  Switzerland,  elderly,  and 
a  widow.     Her  name  is  Mrs.  Lecount. 

On  placing  these  particulars  in  Miss  Vanstone's  hands,  she  made 
no  remark,  except  to  thank  me.  I  endeavored  to  invite  her  confi- 
dence. No  results ;  nothing  but  a  renewal  of  civility,  and  a  sudden 
shifting  to  the  subject  of  the  Entertainment.  Very  good.  If  she 
won't  give  me  the  information  I  want,  the  conclusion  is  obvious — 
I  must  help  myself. 

Business  considerations  claim  the  remainder  of  this  page.  Let 
me  return  to  business. 


Financial  Statement. 

Third  Week  in  January. 

Place  Visited. 
Newark. 

Performances. 
Two. 

Net  Receipts, 

In  black  and  white. 

£25. 

Net  Receipts, 

Actually  Realized. 

£32  10s. 

Apparent  Division  of  Profits. 
Miss  V £12  10 

Actual  Division  of  Profits. 
Miss  V £12  10 

Self £12  10 

Self £20  00 

Private  Surplus  on  the  Week, 

Or  say, 

Self-presented  Testimonial. 

£7  10s. 


Audited, 

H.  Wragge. 


Passed  correct, 

H.  Wragge. 


The  next  stronghold  of  British  sympathy  which  we  take  by  storm 
is  Sheffield.     We  open  the  first  week  in  February. 


VI. 

Chronicle  for  February. 

Practice  has  now  given  my  fair  relative  the  confidence  which  I 
predicted  would  come  with  time.  Her  knack  of  disguising  her 
own  identity  in  the  impersonation  of  different  characters  so  com- 
pletely staggers  her  audiences,  that  the  same  people  come  twice 
over  to  find  out  how  she  does  it,    It  is  the  amiable  defect  of  the 


20$  NO    NAME. 

English  public  never  to  know  when  they  have  had  enough  of  a 
good  thing.  They  actually  try  to  encore  one  of  her  characters — an 
old  north-country  lady ;  modeled  on  that  honored  preceptress  in 
the  late  Mr.  Vanstone's  family  to  whom  I  presented  myself  at 
Combe-Raven.  This  particular  performance  fairly  amazes  the  peo- 
ple.  I  don't  wonder  at  it.  Such  an  extraordinary  assumption  of 
age  by  a  girl  of  nineteen  has  never  been  seen  in  public  before,  in 
the  whole  course  of  my  theatrical  experience. 

I  find  myself  writing  in  a  lower  tone  than  usual ;  I  miss  my  own 
iash  of  humor.  The  fact  is,  I  am  depressed  about  the  future.  In 
the  very  height  of  our  prosperity,  my  perverse  pupil  sticks  to  her 
trumpery  family  quarrel.  I  feel  myself  at  the  mercy  of  the  first 
whim  in  the  Vanstone  direction  which  may  come  into  her  head — I, 
the  architect  of  her  fortunes.     Too  bad  ;  upon  my  soul,  too  bad. 

She  has  acted  already  on  the  inquiries  which  she  forced  me  to 
make  for  her.     She  has  written  two  letters  to  Mr.  Michael  Vanstone. 

To  the  first  letter  no  answer  came.  To  the  second  a  reply  was 
received.  Her  infernal  cleverness  put  an  obstacle  I  had  not  expect- 
ed in  the  way  of  my  intercepting  it.  Later  in  the  day,  after  she  had 
herself  opened  and  read  the  answer,  I  laid  another  trap  for  her.  It 
just  succeeded,  and  no  more.  I  had  half  a  minute  to  look  into  the 
envelope  in  her  absence.  It  contained  nothing  but  her  own  letter 
returned.  She  is  not  the  girl  to  put  up  quietly  with  such  an  insult 
as  this.  Mischief  will  come  of  it — Mischief  to  Michael  Vanstone — 
which  is  of  no  earthly  consequence  :  mischief  to  Me  —  which  is  a 
truly  serious  matter. 

VII. 

Chronicle  for  March. 

After  performing  at  Sheffield  and  Manchester,  we  have  moved  to 
Liverpool,  Preston,  and  Lancaster.  Another  change  in  this  weather- 
cock of  a  girl.  She  has  written  no  more  letters  to  Michael  Van- 
stone ;  and  she  has  become  as  anxious  to  make  money  as  I  am  my- 
self. We  are  realizing  large  profits,  and  we  are  worked  to  death.  I 
don't  like  this  change  in  her :  she  has  a  purpose  to  answer,  or  she 
would  not  show  such  extraordinary  eagerness  to  fill  her  purse. 
Nothing  I  can  do — no  cooking  of  accounts ;  no  self-presented  testi- 
monials—  can  keep  that  purse  empty.  The  success  of  the  Enter- 
tainment, and  her  own  sharpness  in  looking  after  her  interests, 
literally  force  me  into  a  course  of  comparative  honesty.  She  puts 
into  her  pocket  more  than  a  third  of  the  profits,  in  defiance  of  my 
most  arduous  exertions  to  prevent  her.  And  this  at  my  age !  this 
after  my  long  and  successful  career  as  a  moral  agriculturist !  Marks 
of  admiration  are  very  little  things ;  but  they  express  my  feelings, 
and  I  put  them  in  freely. 


NO   NAME.  209 

VIII. 

Chronicle  for  April  and  Mny. 

We  have  visited  seven  more  large  towns,  and  are  now  at  Birming- 
ham. Consulting  my  books,  I  rind  that  Miss  Vanstone  has  realized 
by  the  Entertainment,  up  to  this  time,  the  enormous  sum  of  nearly 
four  hundred  pounds.  It  is  quite  possible  that  my  own  profits  may 
reach  one  or  two  miserable  hundreds  more.  But  I  am  the  architect 
of  her  fortunes  —  the  publisher,  so  to  speak,  of  her  book  —  and,  if 
any  thing,  I  am  underpaid. 

I  made  the  above  discovery  on  the  twenty-ninth  of  the  month — 
anniversary  of  the  Restoration  of  my  royal  predecessor  in  the  field 
of  human  sympathy,  Charles  the  Second.  I  had  barely  finished 
locking  up  my  dispatch-box,  when  the  ungrateful  girl,  whose  repu- 
tation I  have  made,  came  into  the  room  and  told  me  in  so  many 
words  that  the  business  connection  between  us  was  for  the  present 
at  an  end. 

I  attempt  no  description  of  my  own  sensations :  I  merely  record 
facts.  She  informed  me,  with  an  appearance  of  perfect  composure, 
that  she  needed  rest,  and  that  she  had  "  new  objects  in  view."  She 
might  possibly  want  me  to  assist  those  objects;  and  she  might  pos- 
sibly return  to  the  Entertainment.  In  either  case  it  would  be  enough 
if  we  exchanged  addresses,  at  which  we  could  write  to  each  other 
in  case  of  need.  Having  no  desire  to  leave  me  too  abruptly,  she 
would  remain  the  next  day  (which  was  Sunday) ;  and  would  take 
her  departure  on  Monday  morning.  Such  was  her  explanation,  in 
so  many  words. 

Remonstrance,  as  I  knew  by  experience,  would  be  thrown  away. 
Authority  I  had  none  to  exert.  My  one  sensible  course  to  take  in 
this  emergency  was  to  find  out  which  way  my  own  interests  pointed, 
and  to  go  that  way  without  a  moment's  unnecessary  hesitation. 

A  very  little  reflection  has  since  convinced  me  that  she  has  a  deep- 
laid  scheme  against  Michael  Vanstone  in  view.  She  is  young,  hand- 
some, clever,  and  unscrupulous;  she  has  made  money  to  live  on, 
and  has  time  at  her  disposal  to  find  out  the  weak  side  of  an  old 
man ;  and  she  is  going  to  attack  Mr.  Michael  Vanstone  unawares 
with  the  legitimate  weapons  of  her  sex.  Is  she  likely  to  want  me 
for  such  a  purpose  as  this?  Doubtful.  Is  she  merely  anxious  to 
get  rid  of  me  on  easy  terms  ?  Probable.  Am  I  the  sort  of  man  to 
be  treated  in  this  way  by  my  own  pupil  ?  Decidedly  not :  I  am  the 
man  to  see  my  way  through  a  neat  succession  of  alternatives ;  and 
here  they  are : 

First  alternative  :  To  announce  my  compliance  with  her  proposal ; 
to  exchange  addresses  with  her ;  and  then  to  keep  my  eye  privately 
on  all  her  future  movements.     Second  alternative :  to  express  fond 


210  NO   NAME. 

anxiety  in  a  paternal  capacity  ;  and  to  threaten  giving  the  alarm  to 
her  sister  and  the  lawyer,  if  she  persists  in  her  design.  Third  alter- 
native :  To  turn  the  information  I  already  possess  to  the  best  ac- 
count, by  making  it  a  marketable  commodity  between  Mr.  Michael 
Vanstone  and  myself.  At  present  I  incline  toward  the  last  of  these 
three  courses.  But  my  decision  is  far  too  important  to  be  hurried. 
To-day  is  only  the  twenty-ninth.  I  will  suspend  my  Chronicle  of 
Events  until  Monday. 

May  31st. — My  alternatives  and  her  plans  are  both  overthrown 
together. 

The  newspaper  came  in,  as  usual,  after  breakfast.  I  looked  it 
over,  and  discovered  this  memorable  entry  among  the  obituary  an- 
nouncements of  the  day : 

"  On  the  29th  inst.,  at  Brighton,  Michael  Vanstone,  Esq.,  formerly 
of  Zurich,  aged  77." 

Miss  Vanstone  was  present  in  the  room  when  I  read  those  two 
startling  lines.  Her  bonnet  was  on ;  her  boxes  were  packed ;  she 
was  waiting  impatiently  until  it  was  time  to  go  to  the  train.  I 
handed  the  paper  to  her,  without  a  word  on  my  side.  Without  a 
word  on  hers,  she  looked  where  I  pointed,  and  read  the  news  of 
Michael  Vanstone's  death. 

The  paper  dropped  out  of  her  hand,  and  she  suddenly  pulled 
down  her  veil.  I  caught  one  glance  at  her  face  before  she  hid  it 
from  me.  The  effect  on  my  mind  was  startling  in  the  extreme.  To 
put  it  with  my  customary  dash  of  humor — her  face  informed  me 
that  the  most  sensible  action  which  Michael  Vanstone,  Esq.,  former- 
ly of  Zurich,  had  ever  achieved  in  his  life  was  the  action  he  per- 
formed at  Brighton  on  the  29th  instant. 

Finding  the  dead  silence  in  the  room  singularly  unpleasant  un- 
der existing  circumstances,  I  thought  I  would  make  a  remark.  My 
regard  for  my  own  interests  supplied  me  with  a  subject.  I  men- 
tioned the  Entertainment. 

"  After  what  has  happened,"  I  said,  "  I  presume  we  go  on  with 
our  performances  as  usual  ?" 

"No,"  she  answered,  behind  the  veil.  "We  go  on  with  my  in- 
quiries." 

"  Inquiries  after  a  dead  man  ?" 

"  Inquiries  after  the  dead  man's  son." 

"  Mr.  Noel  Vanstone  ?" 

"  Yes  ;  Mr.  Noel  Vanstone." 

Not  having  a  veil  to  let  down  over  my  own  face,  I  stooped  and 
picked  up  the  newspaper.  Her  devilish  determination  quite  upset 
me  for  the  moment.  I  actually  had  to  steady  myself  before  I  could 
tyeak  to  her  again, 


NO    NAME.  211 

"  Are  the  new  inquiries  as  harmless  as  the  old  ones  ?"  I  asked. 

"  Quite  as  harmless." 

"  What  am  I  expected  to  find  out  ?" 

"  I  wish  to  know  whether  Mr.  Noel  Vanstone  remains  at  Brighton 
after  the  funeral." 

"And  if  not?" 

"  If  not,  I  shall  want  to  know  his  new  address,  wherever  it  may  be." 

"  Yes.     And  what  next  ?" 

"  I  wish  you  to  find  out  next  if  all  the  father's  money  goes  to  the 
son." 

I  began  to  see  her  drift.  The  word  money  relieved  me ;  I  felt 
quite  on  my  own  ground  again. 

"  Any  thing  more  ?"  I  asked. 

"  Only  one  thing  more,"  she  answered.  "  Make  sure,  if  you  please, 
whether  Mrs.  Lecount,  the  housekeeper,  remains  or  not  in  Mr.  Noel 
Vanstone's  service." 

Her  voice  altered  a  little  as  she  mentioned  Mrs.  Lecount's  name ; 
she  is  evidently  sharp  enough  to  distrust  the  housekeeper  already. 

"  My  expenses  are  to  be  paid  as  usual  ?"  I  said. 

"As  usual." 

"  When  am  I  expected  to  leave  for  Brighton  ?" 

"As  soon  as  you  can." 

She  rose,  and  left  the  room.  After  a  momentary  doubt,  I  decided 
on  executing  the  new  commission.  The  more  private  inquiries  I 
conduct  for  my  fair  relative,  the  harder  she  will  find  it  to  get  rid  of 
hers  truly,  Horatio  Wragge. 

There  is  nothing  to  prevent  my  starting  for  Brighton  to-morrow. 
So  to-morrow  I  go.  If  Mr.  Noel  Vanstone  succeeds  to  his  father's 
property,  he  is  the  only  human  being  possessed  of  pecuniary  bless- 
ings who  fails  to  inspire  me  with  a  feeling  of  unmitigated  envy. 

IX. 

Chronicle  for  June. 

9th. — I  returned  yesterday  with  my  information.  Here  it  is,  pri- 
vately noted  down  for  convenience  of  future  reference  : 

Mr.  Noel  Vanstone  has  left  Brighton,  and  has  removed,  for  the 
purpose  of  transacting  business  in  London,  to  one  of  his  late  father's 
empty  houses  in  Vauxhall  Walk,  Lambeth.  This  singularly  mean 
selection  of  a  place  of  residence  on  the  part  of  a  gentleman  of  for- 
tune looks  as  if  Mr.  N.  V.  and  his  money  were  not  easily  parted. 

Mr.  Noel  Vanstone  has  stepped  into  his  father's  shoes  under  the 
following  circumstances  :  Mr.  Michael  Vanstone  appears  to  have 
died,  curiously  enough,  as  Mr.  Andrew  Vanstone  died  —  intestate. 
With  this  difference,  however,  in  the  two  cases,  that  the  younger 


212  NO    NAME. 

brother  left  an  informal  will,  and  the  elder  brother  left  no  will  at 
all.  The  hardest  men  have  their  weaknesses ;  and  Mr.  Michael 
Vanstone's  weakness  seems  to  have  been  an  insurmountable  horror 
of  contemplating  the  event  of  his  own  death.  His  son,  his  house- 
keeper, and  his  lawyer,  had  all  three  tried  over  and  over  again  to 
get  him  to  make  a  will ;  and  had  never  shaken  his  obstinate  reso- 
lution to  put  ofT  performing  the  only  business  duty  he  was  ever 
known  to  neglect.  Two  doctors  attended  him  in  his  last  illness; 
warned  him  that  he  was  too  old  a  man  to  hope  to  get  over  it ;  and 
warned  him  in  vain.  He  announced  his  own  positive  determina- 
tion not  to  die.  His  last  words  in  this  world  (as  I  succeeded  in 
discovering  from  the  nurse,  who  assisted  Mrs.  Lecount)  were,  "  I'm 
getting  better  every  minute ;  send  for  the  fly  directly  and  take  me 
out  for  a  drive."  The  same  night  Death  proved  to  be  the  more 
obstinate  of  the  two ;  and  left  his  son  (and  only  child)  to  take  the 
property  in  due  course  of  law.  Nobody  doubts  that  the  result 
would  have  been  the  same  if  a  will  had  been  made.  The  father 
and  son  had  every  confidence  in  each  other,  and  were  known  to 
have  always  lived  together  on  the  most  friendly  terms. 

Mrs.  Lecount  remains  with  Mr.  Noel  Vanstone,  in  the  same  house- 
keeping capacity  which  she  filled  with  his  father,  and  has  accom- 
panied him  to  the  new  residence  in  Vauxhall  Walk.  She  is  ac- 
knowledged on  all  hands  to  have  been  a  sufferer  by  the  turn  events 
have  taken.  If  Mr.  Michael  Vanstone  had  made  his  will,  there  is 
no  doubt  she  would  have  received  a  handsome  legacy.  She  is  now 
left  dependent  on  Mr.  Noel  Vanstone's  sense  of  gratitude ;  and  she 
is  not  at  all  likely,  I  should  imagine,  to  let  that  sense  fall  asleep  for 
want  of  a  little  timely  jogging.  Whether  my  fair  relative's  future 
intentions  in  this  quarter  point  toward  Mischief  or  Money,  is  more 
than  I  can  yet  say.  In  either  case,  I  venture  to  predict  that  she  will 
find  an  awkward  obstacle  in  Mrs.  Lecount. 

So  much  for  my  information  to  the  present  date.  The  manner 
in  which  it  was  received  by  Miss  Vanstone  showed  the  most  un- 
grateful distrust  of  me.  She  confided  nothing  to  my  private  ear 
but  the  expression  of  her  best  thanks.  A  sharp  girl  —  a  devilish 
sharp  girl.  But  there  is  such  a  thing  as  bowling  a  man  out  once 
too  often ;  especially  when  the  name  of  that  man  happens  to  be 
Wragge. 

Not  a  word  more  about  the  Entertainment;  not  a  word  more 
about  moving  from  our  present  quarters.  Very  good.  My  right 
hand  lays  my  left  hand  a  wager.  Ten  to  one,  on  her  opening  com- 
munications with  the  son  as  she  opened  them  with  the  father.  Ten 
to  one,  on  her  writing  to  Noel  Vanstone  before  the  month  is  out. 

21et. — She  has  written  by  to-day's  post.    A  long  letter,  apparently 


NO    NAME.  213 

—for  she  put  two  stamps  on  the  envelope.  (Private  memorandum, 
addressed  to  myself.     Wait  for  the  answer.) 

2%d,  2'Sd,  24th. — (Private  memorandum  continued.  Wait  for  the 
answer.) 

25th.  —  The  answer  has  come.  As  an  ex -military  man,  I  have 
naturally  employed  stratagem  to  get  at  it.  The  success  which  re- 
wards all  genuine  perseverance  has  rewarded  me — and  I  have  got 
at  it  accordingly. 

The  letter  is  written,  not  by  Mr.  Noel  Vanstone,  but  by  Mrs.  Le- 
count.  She  takes  the  highest  moral  ground,  in  a  tone  of  spiteful 
politeness.  Mr.  Noel  Vanstone's  delicate  health  and  recent  bereave- 
ment prevent  him  from  writing  himself.  Any  more  letters  from 
Miss  Vanstone  will  be  returned  unopened.  Any  personal  applica- 
tion will  produce  an  immediate  appeal  to  the  protection  of  the  lav/. 
Mr.  Noel  Vanstone,  having  been  expressly  cautioned  against  Miss 
Magdalen  Vanstone  by  his  late  lamented  father,  has  not  yet  forgot- 
ten his  father's  advice.  Considers  it  a  reflection  cast  on  the  memory 
of  the  best  of  men,  to  suppose  that  his  course  of  action  toward  the 
Miss  Vanstones  can  be  other  than  the  course  of  action  which  his  fa- 
ther pursued.  This  is  what  he  has  himself  instructed  Mrs.  Lecount 
to  say.  She  has  endeavored  to  express  herself  in  the  most  concilia- 
tory language  she  could  select ;  she  has  tried  to  avoid  giving  unnec- 
essary pam,  by  addressing  Miss  Vanstone  (as  a  matter  of  courtesy)  by 
the  family  name ;  and  she  trusts  these  concessions,  which  speak  for 
themselves,  will  not  be  thrown  away.— Such  is  the  substance  of  the 
letter,  and  so  it  ends. 

I  draw  two  conclusions  from  this  little  document.  First— that  it 
will  lead  to  serious  results.  Secondly — that  Mrs.  Lecount,  with  all 
her  politeness,  is  a  dangerous  woman  to  deal  with.  I  wish  I  saw 
my  way  safe  before  me.     I  don't  see  it  yet. 

29th.  —  Miss  Vanstone  has  abandoned  my  protection;  and  the 
whole  lucrative  future  of  the  dramatic  entertainment  has  abandoned 
me  with  her.  I  am  swindled — I,  the  last  man  under  Heaven  who 
could  possibly  have  expected  to  write  in  those  disgraceful  terms  of 
himself — I  am  swindled  ! 

Let  me  chronicle  the  events.  They  exhibit  me,  for  the  time  being, 
in  a  sadly  helpless  point  of  view.  But  the  nature  of  the  man  pre- 
vails :  I  must  have  the  events  down  in  black  and  white. 

The  announcement  of  her  approaching  departure  was  intimated 
to  me  yesterday.  After  another  civil  speech  about  the  information 
I  had  procured  at  Brighton,  she  hinted  that  there  was  a  necessity 
for  pushing  our  inquiries  a  little  further.  I  immediately  offered  to 
undertake  them,  as  before.  "  No,"  she  said ;  "  they  are  not  in  your 
way  this  time.    They  are  inquiries  relating  to  a  woman ;  and  1  mean 


214  NO   NAME. 

to  make  them  myself!"  Feeling  privately  convinced  that  this  new 
resolution  pointed  straight  at  Mrs.  Lecount,  I  tried  a  few  innocent 
questions  on  the  subject.  She  quietly  declined  to  answer  them.  I 
asked  next  when  she  proposed  to  leave.  She  would  leave  on  the 
twenty-eighth.  For  what  destination  ?  London.  For  long  ?  Prob- 
ably not.  By  herself?  No.  With  me  ?  No.  With  whom  then  ? 
With  Mrs.  Wragge,  if  I  had  no  objection.  Good  heavens  !  for  what 
possible  purpose  ?  For  the  purpose  of  getting  a  respectable  lodging, 
which  she  could  hardly  expect  to  accomplish  unless  she  was  accom- 
panied by  an  elderly  female  friend.  And  was  I,  in  the  capacity  of 
elderly  male  friend,  to  be  left  out  of  the  business  altogether  ?  Im- 
possible to  say  at  present.  Was  I  not  even  to  forward  any  letters 
which  might  come  for  her  at  our  present  address  ?  No :  she  would 
make  the  arrangement  herself  at  the  post-office ;  and  she  would  ask 
me,  at  the  same  time,  for  an  address,  at  which  I  could  receive  a  let- 
ter from  her,  in  case  of  necessity  for  future  communication.  Further 
inquiries,  after  this  last  answer,  could  lead  to  nothing  but  waste  of 
time.     I  saved  time  by  putting  no  more  questions. 

It  was  clear  to  me  that  our  present  position  toward  each  other 
was  what  our  position  had  been  previously  to  the  event  of  Michael 
Vanstone's  death.  I  returned,  as  before,  to  my  choice  of  alternatives. 
Which  way  did  my  private  interests  point  ?  Toward  trusting  the 
chance  of  her  wanting  me  again  ?  Toward  threatening  her  with  the 
interference  of  her  relatives  and  friends  ?  Or  toward  making  the  in- 
formation which  I  possessed  a  marketable  commodity  between  the 
wealthy  branch  of  the  family  and  myself?  The  last  of  the  three  was 
the  alternative  I  had  chosen  in  the  case  of  the  father.  I  chose  it 
once  more  in  the  case  of  the  son. 

The  train  started  for  London  nearly  four  hours  since,  and  took  her 
away  in  it,  accompanied  by  Mrs.  Wragge. 

My  wife  is  too  great  a  fool,  poor  soul,  to  be  actively  valuable  in 
the  present  emergency ;  but  she  will  be  passively  useful  in  keeping 
up  Miss  Vanstone's  connection  with  me — and,  in  consideration  of 
that  circumstance,  I  consent  to  brush  my  own  trowsers,  shave  my 
own  chin,  and  submit  to  the  other  inconveniences  of  waiting  on  my- 
self for  a  limited  period.  Any  faint  glimmerings  of  sense  which 
Mrs.  Wragge  may  have  formerly  possessed  appear  to  have  now  final- 
ly taken  their  leave  of  her.  On  receiving  permission  to  go  to  Lon- 
don, she  favored  us  immediately  with  two  inquiries.  Might  she  do 
some  shopping  ?  and  might  she  leave  the  cookery-book  behind  her  ? 
Miss  Vanstone  said  Yes  to  one  question,  and  I  said  Yes  to  the  other 
— and  from  that  moment,  Mrs.  Wragge  has  existed  in  a  state  of  per- 
petual laughter.  I  am  still  hoarse  with  vainly-repeated  applications 
of  vocal  stimulant ;  and  I  left  her  in  the  railway  carriage,  to  my  in- 
expressible disgust,  with  both  shoes  down  at  heel. 


NO   NAME.  215 

Under  ordinary  circumstances,  these  absurd  particulars  would  not 
have  dwelt  on  my  memory.  But,  as  matters  actually  stand,  my  un- 
fortunate wife's  imbecility  may,  in  her  present  position,  lead  to  con- 
sequences which  we  none  of  us  foresee.  She  is  nothing  more  or  less 
than  a  grown-up  child ;  and  I  can  plainly  detect  that  Miss  Vanstone 
trusts  her,  as  she  would  not  have  trusted  a  sharper  woman,  on  that 
very  account.  I  know  children,  little  and  big,  rather  better  than 
my  fair  relative  does;  and  I  say  —  beware  of  all  forms  of  human 
innocence,  when  it  happens  to  be  your  interest  to  keep  a  secret  to 
yourself. 

Let  me  return  to  business.  Here  I  am,  at  two  o'clock  on  a  fine 
summer's  afternoon,  left  entirely  alone,  to  consider  the  safest  means 
of  approaching  Mr.  Noel  Vanstone  on  my  own  account.  My  private 
suspicions  of  his  miserly  character  produce  no  discouraging  effect  on 
me.  I  have  extracted  cheering  pecuniary  results  in  my  time  from 
people  quite  as  fond  of  their  money  as  he  can.  be.  The  real  difficul- 
ty to  contend  with  is  the  obstacle  of  Mrs.  Lecount.  If  I  am  not  mis- 
taken, this  lady  merits  a  little  serious  consideration  on  my  part.  I 
will  close  my  chronicle  for  to-day,  and  give  Mrs.  Lecount  her  due. 

Three  o'clock. — I  open  these  pages  again,  to  record  a  discovery 
which  has  taken  me  entirely  by  surprise. 

After  completing  the  last  entry,  a  circumstance  revived  in  my 
memory  which  I  had  noticed  on  escorting  the  ladies  this  morning 
to  the  railway.  I  then  remarked  that  Miss  Vanstone  had  only  taken 
one  of  her  three  boxes  with  her — and  it  now  occurred  to  me  that  a 
private  investigation  of  the  luggage  she  had  left  behind  might  pos- 
sibly be  attended  with  beneficial  results.  Having,  at  certain  periods 
of  my  life,  been  in  the  habit  of  cultivating  friendly  terms  with  strange 
locks,  I  found  no  difficulty  in  establishing  myself  on  a  familiar  foot- 
ing with  Miss  Vanstone's  boxes.  One  of  the  two  presented  nothing 
to  interest  me.  The  other— devoted  to  the  preservation  of  the  cos- 
tumes, articles  of  toilet,  and  other  properties  used  in  the  dramatic 
Entertainment— proved  to  be  better  worth  examining :  for  it  led  me 
straight  to  the  discovery  of  one  of  its  owner's  secrets. 

I  found  all  the  dresses  in  the  box  complete — with  one  remarkable 
exception.  That  exception  was  the  dress  of  the  old  north-country 
lady ;  the  character  which  I  have  already  mentioned  as  the  best  of 
all  my  pupil's  disguises,  and  as  modeled  in  voice  and  manner  on  her 
old  governess,  Miss  Garth.  The  wig  ;  the  eyebrows  ;  the  bonnet  and 
veil ;  the  cloak,  padded  inside  to  disfigure  her  back  and  shoulders ; 
the  paints  and  cosmetics  used  to  age  her  face  and  alter  her  complex- 
ion—were all  gone.  Nothing  but  the  gown  remained ;  a  gaudily- 
flowered  silk,  useful  enough  for  dramatic  purposes,  but  too  extrava- 
gant 5n  color  and  pattern  to  bear  inspection  by  daybght.  The  oth- 
er parts  of  the  dress  are  sufficiently  quiet  to  pass  muster ;  the  bom 


216  NO    NAME. 

net  and  veil  are  only  old-fashioned,  and  the  cloak  is  of  a  sober  pray 
color.  But  one  plain  inference  can  be  drawn  from  such  a  discovery 
as  this.  As  certainly  as  I  sit  here,  she  is  going  to  open  the  campaign 
against  Noel  Vanstone  and  Mrs.  Lecount  in  a  character  which  nei- 
ther of  those  two  persons  can  have  any  possible  reason  for  suspecting 
at  the  outset — the  character  of  Miss  Garth. 

What  course  am  I  to  take  under  these  circumstances?  Having 
got  her  secret,  what  am  I  to  do  with  it  ?  These  are  awkward  con- 
siderations ;  I  am  rather  puzzled  how  to  deal  with  them. 

It  is  something  more  than  the  mere  fact  of  her  choosing  to  dis- 
guise herself  to  forward  her  own  private  ends,  that  causes  my  pres- 
ent perplexity.  Hundreds  of  girls  take  fancies  for  disguising  them- 
selves ;  and  hundreds  of  instances  of  it  are  related  year  after  year  in 
the  public  journals.  But  my  ex-pupil  is  not  to  be  confounded  for 
one  moment  with  the  average  adventuress  of  the  newspapers.  She 
is  capable  of  going  a  long  way  beyond  the  limit  of  dressing  herself 
like  a  man,  and  imitating  a  man's  voice  and  manner.  She  has  a  nat- 
ural gift  for  assuming  characters  which  I  have  never  seen  equaled 
by  a  woman ;  and  she  has  performed  in  public  until  she  has  felt  her 
own  power,  and  trained  her  talent  for  disguising  herself  to  the  high- 
est jritch.  A  girl  who  takes  the  sharpest  people  unawares  by  using 
such  a  capacity  as  this  to  help  her  own  objects  in  private  life,  and 
who  sharpens  that  capacity  by  a  determination  to  fight  her  way  to 
her  own  purpose,  which  has  beaten  down  every  thing  before  it,  up  to 
this  time — is  a  girl  who  tries  an  experiment  in  deception,  new  enough 
and  dangerous  enough  to  lead,  one  way  or  the  other,  to  very  serious 
results.  This  is  my  conviction,  founded  on  a  large  experience  in  the 
art  of  imposing  on  my  fellow-creatures.  I  say  of  my  fair  relative's 
enterprise  what  I  never  said  or  thought  of  it  till  I  introduced  my- 
self to  the  inside  of  her  box.  The  chances  for  and  against  her  win- 
ning the  fight  for  her  lost  fortune  are  now  so  evenly  balanced,  that 
I  can  not  for  the  life  of  me  see  on  which  side  the  scale  inclines.  All 
I  can  discern  is,  that  it  will,  to  a  dead  certainty,  turn  one  way  or  the 
other,  on  the  day  when  she  passes  Noel  Vanstone's  doors  in  disguise. 

Which  way  do  my  interests  point  now  ?  Upon  my  honor,  I  don't 
know. 

Five  o'clock. — I  have  effected  a  masterly  compromise ;  I  have  de- 
cided on  turning  myself  into  a  Jack-on-both-sides. 

By  to-day's  post  I  have  dispatched  to  London  an  anonymous  let- 
ter for  Mr.  Noel  Vanstone.  It  will  be  forwarded  to  its  destination 
by  the  same  means  which  I  successfully  adopted  to  mystify  Mr. 
Pendril ;  and  it  will  reach  Vauxhall  Walk,  Lambeth,  by  the  after- 
noon of  to-morrow  at  the  latest. 

The  letter  is  short,  and  to  the  purpose.     It  warns  Mr.  Noel  Van- 


NO   NAME.  217 

stone,  in  the  most  alarming  language,  that  he  is  destined  to  become 
the  victim  of  a  conspiracy;  and  that  the  prime  mover  of  it  is  a 
young  lady  who  has  already  held  written  communication  with  his 
father  and  himself.  It  offers  him  the  information  necessary  to  se- 
cure his  own  safety,  on  condition  that  he  makes  it  worth  the  writer's 
while  to  run  the  serious  personal  risk  which  such  a  disclosure  will 
entail  on  him.  And  it  ends  by  stipulating  that  the  answer  shall 
be  advertised  in  the  Times ;  shall  be  addressed  to  "An  Unknown 
Friend ;"  and  shall  state  plainly  what  remuneration  Mr.  Noel  Van- 
stone  offers  for  the  priceless  service  which  it  is  proposed  to  render 
him. 

Unless  some  unexpected  complication  occurs,  this  letter  places 
me  exactly  in  the  position  which  it  is  my  present  interest  to  occu- 
py. If  the  advertisement  appears,  and  if  the  remuneration  offered 
is  large  enough  to  justify  me  in  going  over  to  the  camp  of  the  ene- 
my, over  I  go.  If  no  advertisement  appears,  or  if  Mr.  Noel  Van- 
stone  rates  my  invaluable  assistance  at  too  low  a  figure,  here  I  re- 
main, biding  my  time  till  my  fair  relative  wants  me,  or  till  I  make 
her  want  me,  which  comes  to  the  same  thing.  If  the  anonymous 
letter  falls  by  any  accident  into  her  hands,  she  will  find  disparaging 
allusions  in  it  to  myself,  purposely  introduced  to  suggest  that  the 
writer  must  be  one  of  the  persons  whom  I  addressed  while  conduct- 
ing her  inquiries.  If  Mrs.  Lecount  takes  the  business  in  hand,  and 
lays  a  trap  for  me — I  decline  her  tempting  invitation  by  becoming 
totally  ignorant  of  the  whole  affair  the  instant  any  second  person 
appears  in  it.  Let  the  end  come  as  it  may,  here  I  am  ready  to  profit 
by  it :  here  I  am,  facing  both  ways,  with  perfect  ease  and  security 
— a  moral  agriculturist,  with  his  eye  on  two  crops  at  once,  and  his 
swindler's  sickle  ready  for  any  emergency. 

For  the  next  week  to  come,  the  newspaper  will  be  more  interest- 
ing to  me  than  ever.  I  wonder  which  side  I  shall  eventually  be- 
long to  ? 


218  NO   NAME. 


THE  THIRD  SCENE. 

VAUXHALL  WALE,  LAMBETH. 


CHAPTER  I. 

The  old  Archiepiscopal  Palace  of  Lambeth,  on  the  southern  bank 
of  the  Thames — with  its  Bishop's  Walk  and  Garden,  and  its  terrace 
fronting  the  river — is  an  architectural  relic  of  the  London  of  former 
times,  precious  to  all  lovers  of  the  picturesque,  in  the  utilitarian 
London  of  the  present  day.  Southward  of  this  venerable  structure 
lies  the  street  labyrinth  of  Lambeth ;  and  nearly  midway,  in  that 
part  of  the  maze  of  houses  which  is  placed  nearest  to  the  river,  runs 
the  dingy  double  row  of  buildings  now,  as  in  former  days,  known 
by  the  name  of  Vauxhall  Walk. 

The  net-work  of  dismal  streets  stretching  over  the  surrounding 
neighborhood  contains  a  population  for  the  most  part  of  the  poorer 
order.  In  the  thoroughfares  where  shops  abound,  the  sordid  strug- 
gle with  poverty  shows  itself  unreservedly  on  the  filthy  pavement ; 
gathers  its  forces  through  the  week ;  and,  strengthening  to  a  tu- 
mult on  Saturday  night,  sees  the  Sunday  morning  dawn  in  murky 
gas-light.  Miserable  women,  whose  faces  never  smile,  haunt  the 
butchers'  shops  in  such  London  localities  as  these,  with  relics  of 
the  men's  wages  saved  from  the  public-house  clutched  fast  in  their 
hands,  with  eyes  that  devour  the  meat  they  dare  not  buy,  with 
eager  fingers  that  touch  it  covetously,  as  the  fingers  of  their  richer 
sisters  touch  a  precious  stone.  In  this  district,  as  in  other  districts 
remote  from  the  wealthy  quarters  of  the  metropolis,  the  hideous 
London  vagabond — with  the  filth  of  the  street  outmatched  in  his 
speech,  with  the  mud  of  the  street  outdirtied  in  his  clothes — lounges, 
lowering  and  brutal,  at  the  street  corner  and  the  gin-shop  door ;  the 
public  disgrace  of  his  country,  the  unheeded  warning  of  social  trou- 
bles that  are  yet  to  come.  Here,  the  loud  self-assertion  of  Modern 
Progress — which  has  reformed  so  much  in  manners,  and  altered  so 
little  in  men — meets  the  flat  contradiction  that  scatters  its  preten- 
sions to  the  winds.  Here,  while  the  national  prosperity  feasts,  like 
another  Belshazzar,  on  the  spectacle  of  its  own  magnificence,  is  the 
Writing  on  the  Wall,  which  warns  the  monarch,  Money,  that  his 
glory  is  weighed  in  the  balance,  and  his  power  found  wanting. 

Situated  in  such  a  neighborhood  as  this,  Vauxhall  Walk  gains 


NO   NAME.  219 

by  comparison,  and  establishes  claims  to  respectability  which  no  im- 
partial observation  can  fail  to  recognize.  A  large  proportion  of  the 
Walk  is  still  composed  of  private  houses.  In  the  scattered  situ- 
ations where  shops  appear,  those  shops  are  not  besieged  by  the 
crowds  of  more  populous  thoroughfares.  Commerce  is  not  turbu- 
lent, nor  is  the  public  consumer  besieged  by  loud  invitations  to 
"  buy."  Bird-fanciers  have  sought  the  congenial  tranquillity  of  the 
scene ;  and  pigeons  coo,  and  canaries  twitter,  in  Vauxhall  "Walk. 
Second-hand  carts  and  cabs,  bedsteads  of  a  certain  age,  detached 
carriage-wheels  for  those  who  may  want  one  to  make  up  a  set,  are 
all  to  be  found  here  in  the  same  repository.  One  tributary  stream, 
in  the  great  flood  of  gas  which  illuminates  London,  tracks  its  par- 
ent source  to  Works  established  in  this  locality.  Here  the  follow- 
ers of  John  Wesley  have  set  up  a  temple,  built  before  the  period 
of  Methodist  conversion  to  the  principles  of  architectural  religion. 
And  here — most  striking  object  of  all — on  the  site  where  thousands 
of  lights  once  sparkled;  where  sweet  sounds  of  music  made  night 
tuneful  till  morning  dawned ;  where  the  beauty  and  fashion  of  Lon- 
don feasted  and  danced  through  the  summer  seasons  of  a  century — 
spreads,  at  this  day,  an  awful  wilderness  of  mud  and  rubbish ;  the 
deserted  dead  body  of  Vauxhall  Gardens  moldering  in  the  open  air. 

On  the  same  day  when  Captain  Wragge  completed  the  last  entry 
in  his  Chronicle  of  Events,  a  woman  appeared  at  the  window  of 
one  of  the.  houses  in  Vauxhall  Walk,  and  removed  from  the  glass  a 
printed  paper  which  had  been  wafered  to  it  announcing  that  Apart- 
ments were  to  be  let.  The  apartments  consisted  of  two  rooms  on 
the  first  floor.  They  had  just  been  taken  for  a  week  certain  by 
two  ladies  who  had  paid  in  advance — those  two  ladies  being  Mag- 
dalen and  Mrs.  Wragge. 

As  soon  as  the  mistress  of  the  house  had  left  the  room,  Magdalen 
walked  to  the  window,  and  cautiously  looked  out  from  it  at  the 
row  of  buildings  opposite.  They  were  of  superior  pretensions  in 
size  and  appearance  to  the  other  houses  in  the  Walk :  the  date  at 
which  they  had  been  erected  was  inscribed  on  one  of  them,  and  was 
stated  to  be  the  year  1759.  They  stood  back  from  the  pavement, 
separated  from  it  by  little  strips  of  garden-ground.  This  peculiari- 
ty of  position,  added  to  the  breadth  of  the  roadway  interposing  be- 
tween them  and  the  smaller  houses  opposite,  made  it  impossible  for 
Magdalen  to  see  the  numbers  on  the  doors,  or  to  observe  more  of 
any  one  who  might  come  to  the  windows  than  the  bare  general  out- 
line of  dress  and  figure.  Nevertheless,  there  she  stood,  anxiously 
fixing  her  eyes  on  one  house  in  the  row.  nearly  opposite  to  her — the 
house  she  had  looked  for  before  entering  the  lodgings ;  the  house 
inhabited  at  that  moment  by  Noel  Vanstone  and  Mrs.  Lecount. 


220  NO   NAME. 

After  keeping  watch  at  the  window  in  silence  for  ten  minutes  or 
more,  she  suddenly  looked  back  into  the  room,  to  observe  the  effect 
which  her  behavior  might  have  produced  on  her  traveling  companion. 

Not  the  slightest  cause  appeared  for  any  apprehension  in  that 
quarter.  Mrs.  Wragge  was  seated  at  the  table  absorbed  in  the  ar- 
rangement of  a  series  of  smart  circulars  and  tempting  price-lists,  is- 
sued by  advertising  trades-people,  and  flung  in  at  the  cab-windows 
as  they  left  the  London  terminus.  "  I've  often  heard  tell  of  light 
reading,'''  said  Mrs.  Wragge,  restlessly  shifting  the  positions  of  the 
circulars  as  a  child  restlessly  shifts  the  position  of  a  new  set  of 
toys.  "  Here's  light  reading,  printed  in  pretty  colors.  Here's  all 
the  Things  I'm  going  to  buy  when  I'm  out  shopping  to-morrow. 
Lend  us  a  pencil,  please — you  won't  be  angry,  will  you  ? — I  do  so 
want  to  mark  'em  off."  She  looked  up  at  Magdalen,  chuckled  joy- 
fully over  her  own  altered  circumstances,  and  beat  her  great  hands 
on  the  table  in  irrepressible  delight.  "  No  cookery-book !"  cried 
Mrs.  Wragge.  "  No  Buzzing  in  my  head !  no  captain  to  shave  to- 
morrow !  I'm  all  down  at  heel ;  my  cap's  on  one  side  ;  and  nobody 
bawls  at  me.  My  heart  alive,  here  is  a  holiday  and  no  mistake !" 
Her  hands  began  to  drum  on  the  table  louder  than  ever,  until  Mag- 
dalen quieted  them  by  presenting  her  with  a  pencil.  Mrs.  Wragge 
instantly  recovered  her  dignity,  squared  her  elbows  on  the  table, 
and  plunged  into  imaginary  shopping  for  the  rest  of  the  evening. 

Magdalen  returned  to  the  window.  She  took  a  chair,  seated  her- 
self behind  the  curtain,  and  steadily  fixed  her  eyes  once  more  on  the 
house  opposite. 

The  blinds  were  down  over  the  windows  of  the  first  floor  and  the 
second.  The  window  of  the  room  on  the  ground-floor  was  uncov- 
ered and  partly  open,  but  no  living  creature  came  near  it.  Doors 
opened,  and  people  came  and  went,  in  the  houses  on  either  side ; 
children  by  the  dozen  poured  out  on  the  pavement  to  play,  and  in- 
vaded the  little  strips  of  garden-ground  to  recover  lost  balls  and 
shuttlecocks ;  streams  of  people  passed  backward  and  forward  per- 
petually ;  heavy  wagons  piled  high  with  goods  lumbered  along  the 
road  on  their  way  to,  or  their  way  from,  the  railway  station  near; 
all  the  daily  life  of  the  district  stirred  with  its  ceaseless  activity 
in  every  direction  but  one.  The  hours  passed — and  there  was  the 
house  opposite  still  shut  up,  still  void  of  any  signs  of  human  exist- 
ence inside  or  out.  The  one  object  which  had  decided  Magdalen 
on  personally  venturing  herself  in  Vauxhall  Walk — the  object  of 
studying  the  looks,  manners,  and  habits  of  Mrs.  Lecount  and  her 
master  from  a  post  of  observation  known  only  to  herself — was  thus 
far  utterly  defeated.  After  three  hours'  watching  at  the  window, 
she  had  not  even  discovered  enough  to  show  her  that  the  house 
was  inhabited  at  all. 


NO    BUZZING    IN    MY    HEAD.'       NO    CAPTAIN   TO    SHAVE    TO-MORROW  I" 


NO    NAME.  223 

Shortly  after  six  o'clock,  the  landlady  disturbed  Mrs.  Wragge's 
studies  by  spreading  the  cloth  for  dinner.  Magdalen  placed  herself 
at  the  table  in  a  position  which  still  enabled  her  to  command  the 
view  from  the  window.  Nothing  happened.  The  dinner  came  to  an 
end ;  Mrs.  Wragge  (lulled  by  the  narcotic  influences  of  annotating 
circulars,  and  eating  and  drinking  with  an  appetite  sharpened  by 
the  captain's  absence)  withdrew  to  an  arm-chair,  and  fell  asleep  in 
an  attitude  which  would  have  caused  her  husband  the  acutest  men- 
tal suffering ;  seven  o'clock  struck ;  the  shadows  of  the  summer 
evening  lengthened  stealthily  on  the  gray  pavement  and  the  brown 
house-walls — and  still  the  closed  door  opposite  remained  shut ;  still 
the  one  window  open  showed  nothing  but  the  black  blank  of  the 
room  inside,  lifeless  and  changeless  as  if  that  room  had  been  a  tomb. 

Mrs.  Wragge's  meek  snoring  deepened  in  tone ;  the  evening  wore 
on  drearily ;  it  was  close  on  eight  o'clock — when  an  event  happen- 
ed at  last.  The  street  door  opposite  opened  for  the  first  time,  and 
a  woman  appeared  on  the  threshold. 

Was  the  woman  Mrs.  Lecount  ?  No.  As  she  came  nearer,  her 
dress  showed  her  to  be  a  servant.  She  had  a  large  door-key  in  her 
hand,  and  was  evidently  going  out  to  perform  an  errand.  Roused 
partly  by  curiosity,  partly  by  the  impulse  of  the  moment,  which 
urged  her  impetuous  nature  into  action  after  the  j)assive  endurance 
of  many  hours  past,  Magdalen  snatched  up  her  bonnet,  and  deter- 
mined to  follow  the  servant  to  her  destination,  wherever  it  might  be. 

The  woman  led  her  to  the  great  thoroughfare  of  shops  close  at 
hand,  called  Lambeth  Walk.  After  proceeding  some  little  distance, 
and  looking  about  her  with  the  hesitation  of  a  person  not  well  ac- 
quainted with  the  neighborhood,  the  servant  crossed  the  road  and 
entered  a  stationer's  shop.  Magdalen  crossed  the  road  after  her  and 
followed  her  in. 

The  inevitable  delay  in  entering  the  shop  under  these  circum- 
stances made  Magdalen  too  late  to  hear  what  the  woman  asked  for. 
The  first  words  spoken,  however,  by  the  man  behind  the  counter 
reached  her  ears,  and  informed  her  that  the  servant's  object  was  to 
buy  a  railway  guide. 

"  Do  you  mean  a  Guide  for  this  month,  or  a  Guide  for  July  ?" 
asked  the  shopman,  addressing  his  customer. 

"Master  didn't  tell  me  which,"  answered  the  woman.  "All  I 
know  is,  he's  going  into  the  country  the  day  after  to-morrow." 

"  The  day  after  to-morrow  is  the  first  of  July,"  said  the  shopman. 
"  The  Guide  your  master  wants  is  the  Guide  for  the  new  month.  It 
won't  be  published  till  to-morrow." 

Engaging  to  call  again  on  the  next  day,  the  servant  left  the  shop, 
and  took  the  way  that  led  back  to  Vauxhall  Walk. 

Magdalen  purchased  the  first  trifle  she  saw  on  the  counter,  and 


224  NO    NAME. 

hastily  returned  in  the  same  direction.  The  discovery  she  had  just 
made  was  of  very  serious  importance  to  her ;  and  she  felt  the  neces- 
sity of  acting  on  it  with  as  little  delay  as  possible. 

On  entering  the  front  room  at  the  lodgings,  she  found  Mrs. 
VVragge  just  awake,  lost  in  drowsy  bewilderment,  with  her  cap  fall- 
en oil'  on  her  shoulders,  and  with  one  of  her  shoes  missing  altogether. 
Magdalen  endeavored  to  persuade  her  that  she  was  tired  after  her 
journey,  and  that  her  wisest  proceeding  would  be  to  go  to  bed. 
Mrs.  Wragge  was  perfectly  willing  to  profit  by  this  suggestion,  pro- 
vided she  could  find  her  shoe  first.  In  looking  for  the  shoe,  she 
unfortunately  discovered  the  circulars,  put  by  on  a  side-table,  and 
forthwith  recovered  her  recollection  of  the  earlier  proceedings  of 
the  evening. 

"Give  us  the  pencil,"  said  Mrs.  Wragge,  shuffling  the  circulars  in 
a  violent  hurry.  "  I  can't  go  to  bed  yet — I  haven't  half  done  mark- 
ing down  the  things  I  want.  Let's  see;  where  did  I  leave  off? 
Try  Finch's  feeding-bottle  for  Infants.  No  !  there's  a  cross  against 
that :  the  cross  means  I  don't  want  it.  Comfort  in  the  Field.  Buck 
kr's  Indestructible  Hunting-breeches.  Oh  dear,  dear !  I've  lost  the 
place.  No,  I  haven't.  Here  it  is  ;  here's  my  mark  against  it.  Ele- 
(junt  Cashmere  Robes ;  strictly  Oriental,  very  grand;  reduced  to  one 
pound  nineteen -and -sixpence.  Be  in  time.  Only  three  kft.  Only 
three  !     Oh,  do  lend  us  the  money,  and  let's  go  and  get  one !" 

"  Not  to-night,"  said  Magdalen.  "  Suppose  you  go  to  bed  now, 
and  finish  the  circulars  to-morrow  ?  I  will  put  them  by  the  bedside 
for  you,  and  you  can  go  on  with  them  as  soon  as  you  wake  the  first 
thing  in  the  morning." 

This  suggestion  met  with  Mrs.  Wragge's  immediate  approval. 
Magdalen  took  her  into  the  next  room  and  put  her  to  bed  like  a 
child — with  her  toys  by  her  side.  The  room  was  so  narrow,  and 
the  bed  was  so  small ;  and  Mrs.  Wragge,  arrayed  in  the  wdiite  ap- 
parel proper  for  the  occasion,  with  her  moon-face  framed  round  by 
a  spacious  halo  of  night-cap,  looked  so  hugely  and  disproportion- 
ately large,  that  Magdalen,  anxious  as  she  was,  could  not  repress  a 
smile  on  taking  leave  of  her  traveling  companion  for  the  night. 

"Aha!"  cried  Mrs.  Wragge,  cheerfully;  "  we'll  have  that  Cashmere 
Robe  to-morrow.  Come  here!  I  want  to  whisper  something  to  you. 
Just  you  look  at  me — I'm  going  to  sleep  crooked,  and  the  captain's 
not  here  to  bawl  at  me  !" 

The  front  room  at  the  lodgings  contained  a  sofa-bedstead  which 
the  landlady  arranged  betimes  for  the  night.  This  done,  and  the 
candles  brought  in,  Magdalen  was  left  alone  to  shape  the  future 
course  as  her  own  thoughts  counseled  her. 

The  questions  and  answers  which  had  passed  in  her  presence  that 


NO    NAME.  225 

evening  at  the  stationer's  shop  led  plainly  to  the  conclusion  that 
one  day  more  would  bring  Noel  Vanstone's  present  term  of  resi- 
dence in  Vauxhall  Walk  to  an  end.  Her  first  cautious  resolution  to 
pass  many  days  together  in  unsuspected  observation  of  the  house 
opposite  before  she  ventured  herself  inside  was  entirely  frustrated 
by  the  turn  events  had  taken.  She  was  placed  in  the  dilemma  of 
running  all  risks  headlong  on  the  next  day,  or  of  pausing  for  a  fu- 
ture opportunity  which  might  never  occur.  There  was  no  middle 
course  open  to  her.  Until  she  had  seen  Noel  Vanstone  with  her 
own  eyes,  and  had  discovered  the  worst  there  was  to  fear  from  Mrs. 
Lecount — until  she  had  achieved  this  double  object,  with  the  need- 
ful precaution  of  keeping  her  own  identity  carefully  in  the  dark — 
not  a  step  could  she  advance  toward  the  accomplishment  of  the 
purpose  which  had  brought  her  to  London. 

One  after  another  the  minutes  of  the  night  passed  away ;  one 
after  another  the  thronging  thoughts  followed  each  other  over  her 
mind  —  and  still  she  reached  no  conclusion;  still  she  faltered  and 
doubted,  with  a  hesitation  new  to  her  in  her  experience  of  herself. 
At  last  she  crossed  the  room  impatiently  to  seek  the  trivial  relief 
of  unlocking  her  trunk  and  taking  from  it  the  few  things  that  she 
wanted  for  the  night.  Captain  Wragge's  suspicions  had  not  misled 
him.  There,  hidden  between  two  dresses,  were  the  articles  of  cos- 
tume which  he  had  missed  from  her  box  at  Birmmgham.  She  turn- 
ed them  over  one  by  one,  to  satisfy  herself  that  nothing  she  wanted 
had  been  forgotten,  and  returned  once  more  to  her  post  of  observa- 
tion by  the  window. 

The  house  opposite  was  dark  down  to  the  parlor.  There  the 
blind,  previously  raised,  was  now  drawn  over  the  window :  the 
light  burning  behind  it  showed  her  for  the  first  time  that  the  room 
was  inhabited.  Her  eyes  brightened,  and  her  color  rose  as  she 
looked  at  it. 

"  There  he  is !"  she  said  to  herself,  in  a  low,  angry  whisper. 
"There  he  lives  on  our  money,  in  the  house  that  his  father's  warn- 
ing has  closed  against  me  !"  She  dropped  the  blind  which  she  had 
raised  to  look  out,  returned  to  her  trunk,  and  took  from  it  the  gray 
wig  which  was  part  of  her  dramatic  costume  in  the  character  of  the 
North-country  lady.  The  wig  had  been  crumpled  in  packing ;  she 
put  it  on,  and  went  to  the  toilet-table  to  comb  it  out.  "  His  father 
has  warned  him  against  Magdalen  Vanstone,"  she  said,  repeating 
the  passage  in  Mrs.  Lecount's  letter,  and  laughing  bitterly,  as  she 
looked  at  herself  in  the  glass.  "  I  wonder  whether  his  father  has 
warned  him  against  Miss  Garth  ?  To-morrow  is  sooner  than  I  bar- 
gained for.     No  matter :  to-morrow  shall  show." 

10* 


226  NO    NAME. 


CHAPTER  II. 

The  early  morning,  when  Magdalen  rose  and  looked  out,  was 
cloudy  and  overcast.  But  as  time  advanced  to  the  breakfast  hour, 
the  threatening  of  rain  passed  away ;  and  she  was  free  to  provide, 
without  hinderance  from  the  weather,  for  the  first  necessity  of  the 
day — the  necessity  of  securing  the  absence  of  her  traveling  compan- 
ion from  the  house. 

Mrs.  Wragge  was  dressed,  armed  at  all  points  with  her  collection 
of  circulars,  and  eager  to  be  away  by  ten  o'clock.  At  an  earlier 
hour  Magdalen  had  provided  for  her  being  properly  taken  care  of 
by  the  landlady's  eldest  daughter  —  a  quiet,  well-conducted  girl, 
whose  interest  in  the  shopping  expedition  was  readily  secured  by 
a  little  present  of  money  for  the  purchase,  on  her  own  account,  of 
a  parasol  and  a  muslin  dress.  Shortly  after  ten  o'clock  Magdalen 
dismissed  Mrs.  Wragge  and  her  attendant  in  a  cab.  She  then  join- 
ed the  landlady — who  was  occupied  in  setting  the  rooms  in  order 
up  stairs — with  the  object  of  ascertaining,  by  a  little  well-timed  gos- 
sip, what  the  daily  habits  might  be  of  the  inmates  of  the  house. 

She  discovered  that  there  were  no  other  lodgers  but  Mrs.  Wragge 
and  herself.  The  landlady's  husband  was  away  all  day,  employed 
at  a  railway  station.  Her  second  daughter  was  charged  with  the 
care  of  the  kitchen  in  the  elder  sister's  absence.  The  younger  chil- 
dren were  at  school,  and  would  be  back  at  one  o'clock  to  dinner. 
The  landlady  herself  "  got  up  fine  linen  for  ladies,"  and  expected  to 
be  occupied  over  her  work  all  that  morning  in  a  little  room  built 
out  at  the  back  of  the  premises.  Thus  there  was  every  facility  for 
Magdalen's  leaving  the  house  in  disguise,  and  leaving  it  unobserved, 
provided  she  went  out  before  the  children  came  back  to  dinner  at 
one  o'clock. 

By  eleven  o'clock  the  apartments  were  set  in  order,  and  the  land- 
lady had  retired  to  pursue  her  own  employments.  Magdalen  softly 
locked  the  door  of  her  room,  drew  the  blind  over  the  window,  and 
entered  at  once  on  her  preparations  for  the  perilous  experiment  of 
the  day. 

The  same  quick  perception  of  dangers  to  be  avoided  and  difficul- 
ties to  be  overcome,  which  had  warned  her  to  leave  the  extravagant 
part  of  her  character  costume  in  the  box  at  Birmingham,  now  kept 
her  mind  fully  alive  to  the  vast  difference  between  a  disguise  worn 
by  gas-light  for  the  amusement  of  an  audience,  and  a  disguise  as- 


NO    NAME.  227 

sumed  by  daylight  to  deceive  the  searching  eyes  of  two  strangers. 
The  first  article  of  dress  which  she  put  on  was  an  old  gown  of  her 
own  (made  of  the  material  called  "alpaca"),  of  a  dark-brown  color, 
with  a  neat  pattern  of  little  star-shaped  spots  in  white.  A  double 
flounce  running  round  the  bottom  of  this  dress  was  the  only  milliner's 
ornament  which  it  presented — an  ornament  not  at  all  out  of  charac- 
ter with  the  costume  appropriated  to  an  elderly  lady.  The  disguise 
of  her  head  and  face  was  the  next  object  of  her  attention.  She  fitted 
and  arranged  the  gray  wig  with  the  dexterity  which  constant  prac- 
tice had  given  her ;  fixed  the  false  eyebrows  (made  rather  large,  and 
of  hair  darker  than  the  wig)  carefully  in  their  position  with  the  gum 
she  had  with  her  for  the  purpose,  and  stained  her  face  with  the  cus- 
tomary stage  materials,  so  as  to  change  the  transparent  fairness  of 
her  complexion  to  the  dull,  faintly  opaque  color  of  a  woman  in  ill 
health.  The  lines  and  markings  of  age  followed  next ;  and  here  the 
first  obstacles  presented  themselves.  The  art  which  succeeded  by 
gas-light  failed  by  day  :  the  difficulty  of  hiding  the  plainly  artificial 
nature  of  the  marks  was  almost  insuperable.  She  turned  to  her 
trunk ;  took  from  it  two  veils ;  and  putting  on  her  old-fashioned 
bonnet,  tried  the  effect  of  them  in  succession.  One  of  the  veils  (of 
black  lace)  was  too  thick  to  be  worn  over  the  face  at  that  summer 
season  without  exciting  remark.  The  other,  of  plain  net,  allowed 
her  features  to  be  seen  through  it,  just  indistinctly  enough  to  per- 
mit the  safe  introduction  of  certain  lines  (many  fewer  than  she  was 
accustomed  to  use  in  performing  the  character)  on  the  forehead  and 
at  the  sides  of  the  mouth.  But  the  obstacle  thus  set  aside  only 
opened  the  way  to  a  new  difficulty  —  the  difficulty  of  keeping  her 
veil  down  while  she  was  speaking  to  other  persons,  without  any  ob- 
vious reason  for  doing  so.  An  instant's  consideration,  and  a  chance 
look  at  her  little  china  pallette  of  stage  colors,  suggested  to  her 
ready  invention  the  production  of  a  visible  excuse  for  wearing  her 
veil.  She  deliberately  disfigured  herself  by  artificially  reddening 
the  insides  of  her  eyelids  so  as  to  produce  an  appearance  of  inflam- 
mation which  no  human  creature  but  a  doctor — and  that  doctor  at 
close  quarters  —  could  have  detected  as  false.  She  sprang  to  her 
feet,  and  looked  triumphantly  at  the  hideous  transformation  of  her- 
self reflected  in  the  glass.  Who  could  think  it  strange  now  if  she 
wore  her  veil  down,  and  if  she  begged  Mrs.  Lecount's  permission  to 
sit  with  her  back  to  the  light  ? 

Her  last  proceeding  was  to  put  on  the  quiet  gray  cloak  which 
she  had  brought  from  Birmingham,  and  which  had  been  padded  in- 
side by  Captaiu  Wragge's  own  experienced  hands,  so  as  to  hide  the 
youthful  grace  and  beauty  of  her  back  and  shoulders.  Her  costume 
being  now  complete,  she  practiced  the  walk  which  had  been  origi- 
nally taught  her  as  appropriate  to  the  character — a  walk  with  a 


228  NO    NAME. 

slight  limp— and,  returning  to  the  glass  after  a  niinutess  trial,  ex- 
ercised herself  next  in  the  disguise  of  her  voice  and  manner.  This 
was  the  only  part  of  the  character  in  which  it  had  been  possible, 
with  her  physical  peculiarities,  to  produce  an  imitation  of  Miss 
Garth ;  and  here  the  resemblance  wTas  perfect.  The  harsh  voice 
the  blunt  manner,  the  habit  of  accompanying  certain  phrases  by  an 
emphatic  nod  of  the  head,  the  Northumbrian  burr  expressing  itself 
in  every  word  which  contained  the  letter  "r" — all  these  personal 
peculiarities  of  the  old  North-country  governess  were  reproduced 
to  the  life.  The  personal  transformation  thus  completed  was  lit- 
erally what  Captain  Wragge  had  described  it  to  be  —  a  triumph 
in  the  art  of  self-disguise.  Excepting  the  one  case  of  seeing  her 
face  close,  with  a  strong  light  on  it,  nobody  who  now  looked  at 
Magdalen  could  have  suspected  for  an  instant  that  she  was  other 
than  an  ailing,  ill-made,  unattractive  woman  of  fifty  years  old  at 
least. 

Before  unlocking  the  door,  she  looked  about  her  carefully,  to 
make  sure  that  none  of  her  stage  materials  were  exposed  to  view 
in  case  the  landlady  entered  the  room  in  her  absence.  The  only 
forgotten  object  belonging  to  her  that  she  discovered  was  a  little 
packet  of  Norah's  letters  which  she  had  been  reading  overnight, 
and  which  had  been  accidentally  pushed  under  the  looking-glass 
while  she  was  engaged  in  dressing  herself.  As  she  took  up  the  let- 
ters to  put  them  away,  the  thought  struck  her  for  the  "first  time, 
"  Would  Norah  know  me  now  if  we  met  each  other  in  the  street  <"' 
She  looked  in  the  glass,  and  smiled  sadly.  "  No,"  she  said,  "  not 
even  Norah." 

She  unlocked  the  door,  after  first  looking  at  her  watch.  It  was 
close  on  twelve  o'clock.  There  was  barely  an  hour  left  to  try  her 
desperate  experiment,  and  to  return  to  the  lodging  before  the  land- 
lady's children  came  back  from  school. 

An  instant's  listening  on  the  landing  assured  her  that  all  was 
quiet  in  the  passage  below.  She  noiselessly  descended  the  stairs, 
and  gained  the  street  without  having  met  any  living  creature  on 
her  way  out  of  the  house.  In  another  minute  she  had  crossed  the 
road,  and  had  knocked  at  Noel  Vanstone's  door. 

The  door  was  opened  by  the  same  woman-servant  whom  she  had 
followed  on  the  previous  evening  to  the  stationer's  shop.  With  a 
momentary  tremor,  which  recalled  the  memorable  first  night  of  her 
appearance  in  public,  Magdalen  inquired  (in  Miss  Garth's  voice,  and 
with  Miss  Garth's  manner)  for  Mrs.  Lecount. 

"Mrs.  Lecount  has  gone  out,  ma'am,''  said  the  servant. 

"  Is  Mr.  Vanstone  at  home  ?"  asked  Magdalen,  her  resolution  as- 
serting  itself  at  once  against  the  first  obstacle  that  opposed  it. 

"  My  master  is  not  up  yet,  ma'am." 


NO   NAME.  229 

Another  check  !  A  weaker  nature  would  have  accepted  the 
warning.     Magdalen's  nature  rose  in  revolt  against  it. 

"What  time  will  Mrs.  Lecount  lie  hack  f"  she  asked. 

"About  one  o'clock,  ma'am. " 

"Say,  if  you  please,  that  I  will  call  again  as  soon  after  one  o'clock 
as  possible.  I  particularly  wish  to  see  Mrs.  Lecount.  My  name  is 
Miss  Garth." 

She  turned  and  left  the  house.  Going  back  to  her  own  room 
was  out  of  the  question.  The  servant  (as  Magdalen  knew  by  not 
hearing  the  door  close)  was  looking  after  her;  and,  moreover,  she 
would  expose  herself,  if  she  went  indoors,  to  the  risk  of  going  out 
again  exactly  at  the  time  when  the  landlady's  children  were  sure  to 
be  about  the  house.  She  turned  mechanically  to  the  right,  walked 
on  until  she  reached  Vauxhall  Bridge,  and  waited  there,  looking 
out  over  the  river. 

The  interval  of  unemployed  time  now  before  her  was  nearly  an 
hour.     How  should  she  occupy  it  ? 

As  she  asked  herself  the  cpiestion,  the  thought  which  had  struck 
her  when  she  put  away  the  packet  of  Norah's  letters  rose  in  her 
mind  once  more.  A  sudden  impulse  to  test  the  miserable  complete- 
ness of  her  disguise  mixed  with  the  higher  and  purer  feeling  at  her 
heart,  and  strengthened  her  natural  longing  to  see  her  sister's  face 
again,  though  she  dare  not  discover  herself  and  speak.  Norah's  later 
letters  had  described,  in  the  fullest  details,  her  life  as  a  governess — 
her  hours  for  teaching,  her  hours  of  leisure,  her  hours  for  walking 
out  with  her  pupils.  There  was  just  time,  if  she  could  find  a  vehicle 
at  once,  for  Magdalen  to  drive  to  the  house  of  Norah's  employer, 
with  the  chance  of  getting  there  a  few  minutes  before  the  hour  when 
her  sister  would  be  going  out.  "  One  look  at  her  will  tell  me  more 
than  a  hundred  letters!"  With  that  thought  in  her  heart,  with  the 
one  object  of  following  Norah  on  her  daily  walk,  under  protection 
of  the  disguise,  Magdalen  hastened  over  the  bridge,  and  made  for 
the  northern  bank  of  the  river. 

So,  at  the  turning-point  of  her  life— so,  in  the  interval  before  she 
took  the  irrevocable  step,  and  passed  the  threshold  of  Noel  Van- 
stone's  door — the  forces  of  Good  triumphing  in  the  strife  for  her 
over  the  forces  of  Evil,  turned  her  back  on  the  scene  of  her  medita- 
ted deception,  and  hurried  her  mercifully  farther  and  farther  away 
from  the  fatal  house. 

She  stopped  the  first  empty  cab  that  passed  her ;  told  the  driver 
to  go  to  New  Street,  Spring  Gardens;  and  promised  to  double  his 
fare  if  he  reached  his  destination  by  a  given  time.  The  man  earned 
the  money — more  than  earned  it,  as  the  event  proved.  Magdalen 
had  not  taken  ten  steps  in  advance  along  New  Street,  walking  to- 


230  NO   NAME. 

ward  St.  James's  Park,  before  the  door  of  a  house  beyond  her  opened, 
and  a  lady  in  mourning  came  out,  accompanied  by  two  little  girls. 
The  lady  also  took  the  direction  of  the  Park,  without  turning  her 
head  toward  Magdalen  as  she  descended  the  house  step.  It  mat- 
tered little ;  Magdalen's  heart  looked  through  her  eyes,  and  told  her 
that  she  saw  Norah. 

She  followed  them  into  St.  James's  Park,  and  thence  (along  the 
Mall)  into  the  Green  Park,  venturing  closer  and  closer  as  they  reached 
the  grass  and  ascended  the  rising  ground  in  the  direction  of  Hyde 
Park  Corner.  Her  eager  eyes  devoured  every  detail  in  Norah's 
dress,  and  detected  the  slightest  change  that  had  taken  place  in  her 
figure  and  her  bearing.  She  had  become  thinner  since  the  autumn 
— her  head  drooped  a  little ;  she  walked  wearily.  Her  mourning 
dress,  worn  with  the  modest  grace  and  neatness  which  no  misfor- 
tune could  take  from  her,  was  suited  to  her  altered  station;  her 
black  gown  was  made  of  stuff;  her  black  shawl  and  bonnet  were  of 
the  plainest  and  cheapest  kind.  The  two  little  girls,  walking  on 
either  side  of  her,  were  dressed  in  silk.  Magdalen  instinctively 
hated  them. 

She  made  a  wide  circuit  on  the  grass,  so  as  to  turn  gradually  and 
meet  her  sister  without  exciting  suspicion  that  the  meeting  was  con- 
trived. Her  heart  beat  fast ;  a  burning  heat  glowed  in  her  as  she 
thought  of  her  false  hair,  her  false  color,  her  false  dress,  and  saw  the 
dear  familiar  face  coming  nearer  and  nearer.  They  passed  each  oth- 
er close.  Norah's  dark  gentle  eyes  looked  up,  with  a  deeper  light 
in  them,  with  a  sadder  beauty  than  of  old — rested,  all  unconscious 
of  the  truth,  on  her  sister's  face — and  looked  away  from  it  again  as 
from  the  face  of  a  stranger.  That  glance  of  an  instant  struck  Mag- 
dalen to  the  heart.  She  stood  rooted  to  the  ground  after  Norah  had 
passed  by.  A  horror  of  the  vile  disguise  that  concealed  her;  a 
yearning  to  burst  its  trammels  and  hide  her  shameful  painted  face 
on  Norah's  bosom,  took  possession  of  her,  body  and  soul.  She  turned 
and  looked  back. 

Norah  and  the  two  children  had  reached  the  higher  ground,  and 
were  close  to  one  of  the  gates  in  the  iron  railing  which  fenced  the 
Park  from  the  street.  Drawn  by  an  irresistible  fascination,  Magda- 
len followed  them  again,  gained  on  them  as  they  reached  the  gate, 
and  heard  the  voices  of  the  two  children  raised  in  angry  dispute 
which  way  they  wanted  to  walk  next.  She  saw  Norah  take  them 
through  the  gate,  and  then  stoop  and  speak  to  them,  while  waiting 
for  an  opportunity  to  cross  the  road.  They  only  grew  the  louder  and 
the  angrier  for  what  she  said.  The  youngest — a  girl  of  eight  or  nine 
years  old — flew  into  a  child's  vehement  passion,  cried,  screamed,  and 
even  kicked  at  the  governess.  The  people  in  the  street  stopped  and 
laughed;  some  of  them  jestingly  advised  a  little  wholesome  correc- 


NO    NAME.  231 

tion  ;  one  woman  asked  Norali  if  she  was  the  child's  mother ;  anoth- 
er pitied  her  audibly  for  being  the  child's  governess.  Before  Mag- 
dalen could  push  her  way  through  the  crowd — before  her  all-mas- 
tering anxiety  to  help  her  sister  had  blinded  her  to  every  other  con- 
sideration, and  had  brought  her,  self- betrayed,  to  Norah's  side — an 
open  carriage  passed  the  pavement  slowly,  hindered  in  its  progress 
by  the  press  of  vehicles  before  it.  An  old  lady  seated  inside  heard 
the  child's  cries,  recognized  Norah,  and  called  to  her  immediately. 
The  footman  parted  the  crowd,  and  the  children  were  put  into  the 
carriage.  "It's  lucky  I  happened  to  pass  this  way,"  said  the  old 
lady,  beckoning  contemptuously  to  Norah  to  take  her  place  on  the 
front  seat ;  "  you  never  could  manage  my  daughter's  children,  and 
you  never  will."  The  footman  put  up  the  steps,  the  carriage  drove 
on  with  the  children  and  the  governess,  the  crowd  dispersed,  and 
Magdalen  was  alone  again. 

"  So  be  it!"  she  thought,  bitterly.  "I  should  only  have  distressed 
her.     We  should  only  have  had  the  misery  of  parting  to  suffer  again." 

She  mechanically  retraced  her  steps ;  she  returned,  as  in  a  dream, 
to  the  open  space  of  the  Park.  Arming  itself  treacherously  with 
the  strength  of  her  love  for  her  sister,  with  the  vehemence  of  the 
indignation  that  she  felt  for  her  sister's  sake,  the  terrible  tempta- 
tion of  her  life  fastened  its  hold  on  her  more  firmly  than  ever. 
Through  all  the  paint  and  disfigurement  of  the  disguise,  the  fierce 
despair  of  that  strong  and  passionate  nature  lowered,  haggard  and 
horrible.  Norah  made  an  object  of  public  curiosity  and  amuse- 
ment; Norah  reprimanded  in  the  open  street;  Norah,  the  hired 
victim  of  an  old  woman's  insolence  and  a  child's  ill-temper,  and  the 
same  man  to  thank  for  it  who  had  sent  Frank  to  China ! — and  that 
man's  son  to  thank  after  him !  The  thought  of  her  sister,  which 
had  turned  her  from  the  scene  of  her  meditated  deception,  which 
had  made  the  consciousness  of  her  own  disguise  hateful  to  her,  was 
now  the  thought  which  sanctioned  that  means,  or  any  means,  to 
compass  her  end ;  the  thought  which  set  wings  to  her  feet,  and 
hurried  her  back  nearer  and  nearer  to  the  fatal  house. 

She  left  the  Park  again,  and  found  herself  in  the  streets  without 
knowing  where.  Once  more  she  hailed  the  first  cab  that  passed 
her,  and  told  the  man  to  drive  to  Vauxhall  Walk. 

The  change  from  walking  to  riding  quieted  her.  She  felt  her 
attention  returning  to  herself  and  her  dress.  The  necessity  of  mak- 
ing sure  that  no  accident  had  happened  to  her  disguise  in  the  in- 
terval since  she  had  left  her  own  room  impressed  itself  immediately 
on  her  mind.  She  stopped  the  driver  at  the  first  pastry-cook's  shop 
which  he  passed,  and  there  obtained  the  means  of  consulting  a  look- 
ing-glass before  she  ventured  back  to  Vauxhall  Walk. 


232  NO   NAME. 

Her  gray  head-dress  was  disordered,  and  the  old-fashioned  bon- 
net was  a  little  on  one  side.  Nothing  else  had  suffered.  She  set 
right  the  few  defects  in  her  costume,  and  returned  to  the  cab.  It 
was  half-past  one  when  she  approached  the  house  and  knocked, 
for  the  second  time,  at  Noel  Vanstone's  door.  The  woman-servant 
opened  it  as  before. 

u  Has  Mrs.  Lecount  come  back  ?" 

"  Yes,  ma'am.     Step  this  way,  if  you  please." 

The  servant  preceded  Magdalen  along  an  empty  passage,  and, 
leading  her  past  an  uncarpeted  staircase,  opened  the  door  of  a  room 
at  the  back  of  the  house.  The  room  was  lighted  by  one  window 
looking  out  on  a  yard ;  the  walls  were  bare ;  the  boarded  floor  was 
uncovered.  Two  bedroom  chairs  stood  against  the  wall,  and  a 
kitchen-table  was  placed  under  the  window.  On  the  table  stood  a 
glass  tank  filled  with  water,  and  ornamented  in  the  middle  by  a 
miniature  pyramid  of  rock-work  interlaced  with  weeds.  Snails 
clung  to  the  sides  of  the  tank ;  tadpoles  and  tiny  fish  swam  swiftly 
in  the  green  water ;  slippery  efts  and  slimy  frogs  twined  their  noise- 
less way  in  and  out  of  the  weedy  rock-work ;  and  on  top  of  the 
pyramid  there  sat  solitary,  cold  as  the  stone,  brown  as  the  stone, 
motionless  as  the  stone,  a  little  bright-eyed  toad.  The  art  of  keep- 
ing fish  and  reptiles  as  domestic  pets  had  not  at  that  time  been 
popularized  in  England ;  and  Magdalen,  on  entering  the  room,  start- 
ed back,  in  irrepressible  astonishment  and  disgust,  from  the  first 
specimen  of  an  Aquarium  that  she  had  ever  seen. 

"  Don't  be  alarmed,"  said  a  woman's  voice  behind  her.  "  My 
pets  hurt  nobody." 

Magdalen  turned,  and  confronted  Mrs.  Lecount.  She  had  ex- 
pected— founding  her  anticipations  on  the  letter  which  the  house- 
keeper had  written  to  her — to  see  a  hard,  wily,  ill-favored,  insolent 
old  woman.  She  found  herself  in  the  presence  of  a  lady  of  mild, 
ingratiating  manners,  whose  dress  was  the  perfection  of  neatness, 
taste,  and  matronly  simplicity,  whose  personal  appearance  was  little 
less  than  a  triumph  of  physical  resistance  to  the  deteriorating  influ- 
ence of  time.  If  Mrs.  Lecount  had  struck  some  fifteen  or  sixteen 
years  off  her  real  age,  and  had  asserted  herself  to  be  eight-and- 
thirty,  there  would  not  have  been  one  man  in  a  thousand,  or  one 
woman  in  a  hundred,  who  would  have  hesitated  to  believe  her. 
Her  dark  hair  was  just  turning  to  gray,  and  no  more.  It  was 
plainly  parted  under  a  spotless  lace  cap,  sparingly  ornamented  with 
mourning  ribbons.  Not  a  wrinkle  appeared  on  her  smooth  white 
forehead,  or  her  plump  white  cheeks.  Her  double  chin  was  dim- 
pled, and  her  teeth  were  marvels  of  whiteness  and  regularity.  Her 
lips  might  have  been  critically  considered  as  too  thin,  if  they  had 
not  been  accustomed  to  make  the  best  of  their  defects  by  means  of 


NO    NAME.  233 

a  pleading  and  persuasive  smile.  Her  large  black  eyes  might  have 
looked  fierce  if  they  had  been  set  in  the  face  of  another  woman: 
they  were  mild  and  melting  in  the  face  of  Mrs.  Lecount ;  they  were 
tenderly  interested  in  every  thing  she  looked  at — in  Magdalen,  in 
the  toad  on  the  rock-work,  in  the  back-yard  view  from  the  window ; 
in  her  own  plump  fair  hands,  which  she  rubbed  softly  one  over  the 
other  while  she  spoke ;  in  her  own  pretty  cambric  chemisette,  which 
she  had  a  habit  of  looking  at  complacently  while  she  listened  to 
others.  The  elegant  black  gown  in  which  she  mourned  the  mem- 
ory of  Michael  Vanetone  was  not  a  mere  dress — it  was  a  well-made 
compliment  paid  to  Death.  Her  innocent  white  muslin  apron  was 
a  little  domestic  poem  in  itself.  Her  jet  ear-rings  were  so  modest 
in  their  pretensions,  that  a  Quaker  might  have  looked  at  them  and 
committed  no  sin.  The  comely  plumpness  of  her  face  was  matched 
by  the  comely  plumpness  of  her  figure ;  it  glided  smoothly  over  the 
ground ;  it  flowed  in  sedate  undulations  when  she  walked.  There 
are  not  many  men  who  could  have  observed  Mrs.  Lecount  entirely 
from  the  Platonic  point  of  view — lads  in  their  teens  would  have 
found  her  irresistible — women  only  could  have  hardened  their  hearts 
against  her,  and  mercilessly  forced  their  way  inward  through  that 
fair  and  smiling  surface.  Magdalen's  first  glance  at  this  Venus  of 
the  autumn  period  of  female  life  more  than  satisfied  her  that  she 
had  done  well  to  feel  her  ground  in  disguise  before  she  ventured  on 
matching  herself  against  Mrs.  Lecount. 

"  Have  I  the  pleasure  of  addressing  the  lady  who  called  this  morn- 
ing?" inquired  the  housekeeper.     ''Am  I  speaking  to  Miss  Garth?" 

Something  in  the  expression  of  her  eyes,  as  she  asked  that  ques- 
tion, warned  Magdalen  to  turn  her  face  farther  inward  from  the 
window  than  she  had  turned  it  yet.  The  bare  doubt  whether  the 
housekeeper  might  not  have  seen  her  already  under  too  strong  a 
light,  shook  her  self-possession  for  the  moment.  She  gave  herself 
time  to  recover  it,  and  merely  answered  by  a  bow. 

u  Accept  my  excuses,  ma'am,  for  the  place  in  which  I  am  com- 
pelled to  receive  you,"  proceeded  Mrs.  Lecount  in  fluent  English, 
spoken  with  a  foreign  accent.  "  Mr.  Vanstone  is  only  here  for  a 
temporary  purpose.  We  leave  for  the  sea-side  to-morrow  afternoon, 
and  it  has  not  been  thought  worth  while  to  set  the  house  in  proper 
order.  Will  you  take  a  seat,  and  oblige  me  by  mentioning  the  ob- 
ject of  your  visit  ?" 

She  glided  imperceptibly  a  step  or  two  nearer  to  Magdalen,  and 
placed  a  chair  for  her  exactly  opposite  the  light  from  the  window. 
"  Pray  sit  down,"  said  Mrs.  Lecount,  looking  with  the  tenderest  in- 
terest at  the  visitor's  inflamed  eyes  through  the  visitor's  net  veil. 

"I  am  suffering,  as  you  see,  from  a  complaint  in  the  eyes,"  replied 
Magdalen,  steadily  keeping  her  profile  toward  the  window,  and 


234  NO    NAME. 

carefully  pitching  her  voice  to  the  tone  of  Miss  Garth's.  "  I  must 
beg  your  permission  to  wear  my  veil  down,  and  to  sit  away  from 
the  light."  She  said  those  words,  feeling  mistress  of  herself  again. 
With  perfect  composure  she  drew  the  chair  back  into  the  corner  of 
the  room  beyond  the  window  and  seated  herself,  keeping  the  shad- 
ow of  her  bonnet  well  over  her  face.  Mrs.  Lecount's  persuasive  lips 
murmured  a  polite  expression  of  sympathy  ;  Mrs.  Lecount's  ami- 
able black  eyes  looked  more  interested  in  the  strange  lady  than 
ever.  She  placed  a  chair  for  herself  exactly  on  a  line  with  Mag- 
dalen's, and  sat  so  close  to  the  wall  as  to  force  her  visitor  either  to 
turn  her  head  a  little  farther  round  toward  the  window,  or  to  fail 
in  politeness  by  not  looking  at  the  person  whom  she  addressed. 
"  Yes,"  said  Mrs.  Lecount,  with  a  confidential  little  cough.  "  And 
to  what  circumstances  am  I  indebted  for  the  honor  of  this  visit  ?" 

"  May  I  inquire,  first,  if  my  name  happens  to  be  familiar  to  you  ?" 
said  Magdalen,  turning  toward  her  as  a  matter  of  necessity,  but 
coolly  holding  up  her  handkerchief  at  the  same  time  between  her 
face  and  the  light. 

"  No,"  answered  Mrs.  Lecount,  with  another  little  cough,  rather 
harsher  than  the  first.  "  The  name  of  Miss  Garth  is  not  familiar 
to  me." 

"  In  that  case,"  pursued  Magdalen,  "  I  shall  best  explain  the  object 
that  causes  me  to  intrude  on  you  by  mentioning  who  I  am-.  I  lived 
for  many  years  as  governess  in  the  family  of  the  late  Mr.  Andrew 
Vanstone,  of  Combe-Raven,  and  I  come  here  in  the  interest  of  his 
orphan  daughters." 

Mrs.  Lecount's  hands,  which  had  been  smoothly  sliding  one  over 
the  other  up  to  this  time,  suddenly  stopped ;  and  Mrs.  Lecount's 
lips,  self-forgetfully  shutting  up,  owned  they  were  too  thin  at  the 
very  outset  of  Ihe  interview. 

"  I  am  surprised  you  can  bear  the  light  out-of-doors  without  a 
green  shade,"  she  quietly  remarked ;  leaving  the  false  Miss  Garth's 
announcement  of  herself  as  completely  unnoticed  as  if  she  had  not 
spoken  at  all. 

"  I  find  a  shade  over  my  eyes  keeps  them  too  hot  at  this  time  of 
the  year,"  rejoined  Magdalen,  steadily  matching  the  housekeeper's 
composure.  "  May  I  ask  whether  you  heard  what  I  said  just  now 
on  the  subject  of  my  errand  in  this  house  ?" 

"  May  I  inquire  on  my  side,  ma'am,  in  what  way  that  errand  can 
possibly  concern  meV  retorted  Mrs.  Lecount. 

"  Certainly,"  said  Magdalen.  "  I  come  to  you  because  Mr.  Noel 
Vanstone's  intentions  toward  the  two  young  ladies  were  made 
known  to  them  in  the  form  of  a  letter  from  yourself." 

That  plain  answer  had  its  effect.  It  warned  Mrs.  Lecount  that 
the  strange  lady  was  better  informed  than  she  had  at  first  suspect- 


NO    NAME.  235 

ed,  and  that  it  might  hardly  be  wise,  under  the  circumstances,  to 
dismiss  her  unheard. 

"Pray  pardon  me,"  said  the  housekeeper,  " I  scarcely  understood 
before ;  I  perfectly  understand  now.  You  are  mistaken,  ma'am,  in 
supposing  that  I  am  of  any  importance,  or  that  I  exercise  any  in- 
fluence in  this  jjainful  matter.  I  am  the  mouth-piece  of  Mr.  Noel 
Vanstone;  the  pen  he  holds,  if  you  will  excuse  the  expression  — 
nothing  more.  He  is  an  invalid ;  and,  like  other  invalids,  he  has 
his  bad  days  and  his  good.  It  was  his  bad  day  when  that  answer 
was  written  to  the  young  person — ,  shall  I  call  her  Miss  Vanstone  ? 
I  will,  with  pleasure,  poor  girl ;  for  who  am  I  to  make  distinctions, 
and  what  is  it  to  me  whether  her  parents  were  married  or  not  ?  As 
I  was  saying,  it  was  one  of  Mr.  Noel  Vanstone's  bad  days  when  that 
answer  was  sent,  and  therefore  I  had  to  write  it ;  simply  as  his  sec- 
retary, for  want  of  a  better.  If  you  wish  to  speak  on  the  subject  of 
these  young  ladies — ,  shall  I  call  them  young  ladies,  as  you  did  just 
now  ?  no,  poor  things,  I  will  call  them  the  Miss  Vanstones. — If  you 
wish  to  speak  on  the  subject  of  these  Miss  Vanstones,  I  will  men- 
tion your  name,  and  your  object  in  favoring  me  with  this  call,  to 
Mr.  Noel  Vanstone.  He  is  alone  in  the  parlor,  and  this  is  one  of  his 
good  days.  I  have  the  influence  of  an  old  servant  over  him,  and  I 
will  use  that  influence  with  pleasure  in  your  behalf.  Shall  I  go  at 
once  ?"  asked  Mrs.  Lecount,  rising,  with  the  friendliest  anxiety  to 
make  herself  useful. 

"  If  you  please,"  replied  Magdalen ;  "  and  if  I  am  not  taking  any 
undue  advantage  of  your  kindness." 

"  On  the  contrary,"  rejoined  Mrs.  Lecount,  "  you  are  laying  me 
under  an  obligation  —  you  are  permitting  me,  in  my  very  limited 
way,  to  assist  the  performance  of  a  benevolent  action."  She  bowed, 
smiled,  and  glided  out  of  the  room. 

Left  by  herself,  Magdalen  allowed  the  anger  which  she  had  sup- 
pressed in  Mrs.  Lecount's  presence  to  break  free  from  her.  For 
want  of  a  nobler  object  to  attack,  it  took  the  direction  of  the  toad. 
The  sight  of  the  hideous  little  reptile  sitting  placid  on  his  rock 
throne,  with  his  bright  eyes  staring  impenetrably  into  vacancy,  it* 
ritated  every  nerve  in  her  body.  She  looked  at  the  creature  with 
a  shrinking  intensity  of  hatred ;  she  whispered  at  it  maliciously 
through  her  set  teeth.  "  I  wonder  whose  blood  runs  coldest,"  she 
said,  "  yours,  you  little  monster,  or  Mrs.  Lecount's  ?  I  wonder 
which  is  the  slimiest,  her  heart  or  your  back  ?  You  hateful  wretch, 
do  you  know  what  your  mistress  is  ?     Your  mistress  is  a  devil !" 

The  speckled  skin  under  the  toad's  mouth  mysteriously  wrinkled 
itself,  then  slowly  expanded  again,  as  if  he  had  swallowed  the  words 
just  addressed  to  him.  Magdalen  started  back  in  disgust  from  the 
first  perceptible  movement  in  the  creature's  body,  trifling  as  it  was, 


236  NO    NAME. 

and  returned  to  her  chair.  She  had  not  seated  herself  again  a  mo- 
ment too  soon.  The  door  opened  noiselessly,  and  Mrs.  Lecount  ap- 
peared once  more. 

"  Mr.  Vanstone  will  see  you,"  she  said,  "  if  you  will  kindly  wait  a 
few  minutes.  He  will  ring  the  parlor  bell  when  his  present  occu- 
pation is  at  an  end,  and  he  is  ready  to  receive  you.  Be  careful, 
ma'am,  not  to  depress  his  spirits,  nor  to  agitate  him  in  any  way.  His 
heart  has  been  a  cause  of  serious  anxiety  to  those  about  him,  from 
his  earliest  years.  There  is  no  positive  disease  ;  there  is  only  a 
chronic  feebleness — a  fatty  degeneration — a  want  of  vital  power  in 
the  organ  itself.  His  heart  will  go  on  well  enough  if  you  don't 
give  his  heart  too  much  to  do — that  is  the  advice  of  all  the  medical 
men  who  have  seen  him.  You  will  not  forget  it,  and  you  will  keep 
a  guard  over  your  conversation  accordingly.  Talking  of  medical 
men,  have  you  ever  tried  the  Golden  Ointment  for  that  sad  afflic- 
tion in  your  eyes?  It  has  been  described  to  me  as  an  excellent 
remedy." 

"  It  has  not  succeeded  in  my  case,"  replied  Magdalen,  shaqny. 
"  Before  I  see  Mr.  Noel  Vanstone,"  she  continued,  "  may  I  inquire — " 

"  I  beg  your  pardon,"  interposed  Mrs.  Lecount.  "  Does  your  ques- 
tion refer  in  any  way  to  those  two  poor  girls  ?" 

"  It  refers  to  the  Miss  Vanstones." 

"  Then  I  can't  enter  into  it.  Excuse  me,  I  really  can't  discuss 
these  poor  girls  (I  am  so  glad  to  hear  you  call  them  the  Miss  Van- 
stones  !)  except  in  my  master's  presence,  and  by  my  master's  express 
permission.  Let  us  talk  of  something  else  while  we  are  waiting 
here.  Will  you  notice  my  glass  Tank  ?  I  have  every  reason  to  be- 
lieve that  it  is  a  perfect  novelty  in  England." 

"I  looked  at  the  Tank  while  you  were  out  of  the  room,"  said 
Magdalen. 

"  Did  you  ?  You  take  no  interest  in  the  subject,  I  dare  say  ? 
Quite  natural.  I  took  no  interest  either  until  I  was  married.  My 
dear  husband — dead  many  years  since — formed  my  tastes,  and  ele- 
vated me  to  himself.  You  have  heard  of  the  late  Professor  Lecomte, 
the  eminent  Swiss  naturalist  ?  I  am  his  widow.  The  English  circle 
at  Ziirich  (where  I  lived  in  my  late  master's  service)  Anglicized  my 
name  to  Lecount.  Your  generous  country  people  will  have  nothing 
foreign  about  them  —  not  even  a  name,  if  they  can  help  it.  But  I 
was  speaking  of  my  husband — my  dear  husband,  who  permitted  me 
to  assist  him  in  his  pursuits.  I  have  had  only  one  interest  since 
his  death  —  an  interest  in  science.  Eminent  in  many  things,  the 
professor  was  great  at  reptiles.  He  left  me  his  Subjects  and  his 
Tank.  I  had  no  other  legacy.  There  is  the  Tank.  All  the  Subjects 
died  but  this  quiet  little  fellow — this  nice  little  toad.  Are  you  sur- 
prised at  my  liking  him  ?     There  is  nothing  to  be  surprised  at 


NO    NAME.  237 

The  professor  lived  long  enough  to  elevate  me  above  the  common 
prejudice  against  the  reptile  creation.  Properly  understood,  the 
reptile  creation  is  beautiful.  Properly  dissected,  the  reptile  creation 
is  instructive  in  the  last  degree."  She  stretched  out  her  little  fin- 
ger, and  gently  stroked  the  toad's  back  with  the  tip  of  it.  "  So 
refreshing  to  the  touch,"  said  Mrs.  Lecount — "  so  nice  and  cool  this 
summer  weather !" 

The  bell  from  the  parlor  rang.  Mrs.  Lecount  rose,  bent  fondly 
over  the  Aquarium,  and  chirruped  to  the  toad  at  parting  as  if  it  had 
been  a  bird.  "Mr.  Vanstone  is  ready  to  receive  you.  Follow  me, 
if  you  please,  Miss  Garth."  With  these  words  she  opened  the  door, 
and  led  the  way  out  of  the  room. 


CHAPTER  HI. 

"Miss  Garth,  sir,"  said  Mrs.  Lecount,  opening  the  parlor  door, 
and  announcing  the  visitor's  appearance  with  the  tone  and  manner 
of  a  well-bred  servant. 

Magdalen  found  herself  in  a  long,  narrow  room,  consisting  of  a 
back  parlor  and  a  front  parlor,  which  had  been  thrown  into  one  by 
opening  the  folding-doors  between  them.  Seated  not  far  from  the 
front  window,  with  his  back  to  the  light,  she  saw  a  frail,  flaxen- 
haired,  self-satisfied  little  man,  clothed  in  a  fair  white  dressing-gown 
many  sizes  too  large  for  him,  with  a  nosegay  of  violets  drawn  neatly 
through  the  button-hole  over  his  breast.  He  looked  from  thirty  to 
five-and-thirty  years  old.  His  complexion  was  as  delicate  as  a  young 
girl's,  his  eyes  were  of  the  lightest  blue,  his  upper  lip  was  adorned 
by  a  weak  little  white  mustache,  waxed  and  twisted  at  either  end 
into  a  thin  spiral  curl.  When  any  object  specially  attracted  his  at- 
tention, he  half  closed  his  eyelids  to  look  at  it.  When  he  smiled, 
the  skin  at  his  temples  crumpled  itself  up  into  a  nest  of  wicked 
little  wrinkles.  He  had  a  plate  of  strawberries  on  his  la}),  with  a 
napkin  under  them  to  preserve  the  purity  of  his  white  dressing- 
gown.  At  his  right  hand  stood  a  large  round  table,  covered  with 
a  collection  of  foreign  curiosities,  which  seemed  to  have  been 
brought  together  from  the  four  quarters  of  the  globe.  Stuffed  birds 
from  Africa,  porcelain  monsters  from  China,  silver  ornaments  and 
utensils  from  India  and  Peru,  mosaic  work  from  Italy,  and  bronzes 
from  France,  were  all  heaped  together  pell-mell  with  the  coarse 
deal  boxes  and  dingy  leather  cases  which  served  to  pack  them  for 
traveling.  The  little  man  apologized,  with  a  cheerful  and  simper- 
ing conceit,  for  his  litter  of  curiosities,  his  dressing-gown,  and  his 
delicate  health ;  and,  waving  his  hand  toward  a  chair,  placed  his 


238  NO    NAME. 

attention,  with  pragmatical  politeness,  at  the  visitor's  disposal. 
Magdalen  looked  at  him  with  a  momentary  doubt  whether  Mrs. 
Lecount  had  not  deceived  her.  Was  this  the  man  who  mercilessly 
followed  the  path  on  which  his  merciless  father  had  walked  before 
him?  She  could  hardly  believe  it.  "  Take  a  seat,  Miss  Garth,"  he 
repeated,  observing  her  hesitation,  and  announcing  his  own  name 
in  a  high,  thin,  fretfully-consequential  voice  :  "  I  am  Mr.  Noel  Van- 
stone.     You  wished  to  see  me — here  I  am  !" 

"  May  I  be  permitted  to  retire,  sir  ?"  inquired  Mrs.  Lecount. 

"  Certainly  not !"  replied  her  master.  "  Stay  here,  Lecount,  and 
keep  us  company.  Mrs.  Lecount  has  my  fullest  confidence,"  he  con- 
tinued, addressing  Magdalen.  "  Whatever  you  say  to  me,  ma'am, 
you  say  to  her.  She  is  a  domestic  treasure.  There  is  not  another 
house  in  England  has  such  a  treasure  as  Mrs.  Lecount." 

The  housekeeper  listened  to  the  praise  of  her  domestic  virtues 
with  eyes  immovably  fixed  on  her  elegant  chemisette.  But  Mag- 
dalen's quick  penetration  had  previously  detected  a  look  that  pass- 
ed between  Mrs.  Lecount  and  her  master,  which  suggested  that 
Noel  Vanstone  had  been  instructed  beforehand  what  to  say  and  do 
in  his  visitor's  presence.  The  suspicion  of  this,  and  the  obstacles 
which  the  room  presented  to  arranging  her  position  in  it  so  as  to 
keep  her  face  from  the  light,  warned  Magdalen  to  be  on  her  guard. 

She  had  taken  her  chair  at  first  nearly  midway  in  the  room.  An 
instant's  after-reflection  induced  her  to  move  her  seat  toward  the 
left  hand,  so  as  to  place  herself  just  inside,  and  close  against,  the 
left  post  of  the  folding-door.  In  this  position,  she  dexterously  bar- 
red the  only  passage  by  which  Mrs.  Lecount  could  have  skirted 
round  the  large  table,  and  contrived  to  front  Magdalen  by  taking  a 
chair  at  her  master's  side.  On  the  right  hand  of  the  table  the  empty 
space  was  well  occupied  by  the  fire-place  and  fender,  by  some  travel- 
ing-trunks, and  a  large  packing-case.  There  was  no  alternative  left 
for  Mrs.  Lecount  but  to  place  herself  on  a  line  with  Magdalen  against 
the  opposite  post  of  the  folding-door,  or  to  push  rudely  past  the 
visitor  with  the  obvious  intention  of  getting  in  front  of  her.  With 
an  expressive  little  cough,  and  with  one  steady  look  at  her  master, 
the  housekeeper  conceded  the  point,  and  took  her  seat  against  the 
right-hand  door-post.  "  Wait  a  little,"  thought  Mrs.  Lecount;  "  my 
turn  next !" 

"  Mind  what  you  are  about,  ma'am  !"  cried  Noel  Vanstone,  as 
Magdalen  accidentally  approached  the  table  in  moving  her  chair. 
"  Mind  the  sleeve  of  your  cloak  !  Excuse  me,  you  nearly  knocked 
down  that  silver  candlestick.  Pray  don't  suppose  it's  a  common 
candlestick.  It's  nothing  of  the  sort — it's  a  Peruvian  candlestick. 
There  are  only  three  of  that  pattern  in  the  world.  One  is  in  the 
possession  of  the  President  of  Peru ;  one  is  locked  up  in  the  Vati- 


NO   NAME.  239 

can ;  and  one  is  on  My  table.  It  cost  ten  pounds ;  it's  worth  fifty. 
One  of  my  lather's  bargains,  ma'am.  All  these  things  are  my  father's 
bargains.  There  is  not  another  house  in  England  which  has  such 
curiosities  as  these.  Sit  down,  Lecount ;  I  beg  you  will  make  your- 
self comfortable.  Mrs.  Lecount  is  like  the  curiosities,  Miss  Garth — ■ 
she  is  one  of  my  father's  bargains.  You  are  one  of  my  father's  bar- 
gains, are  you  not,  Lecount?  My  father  was  a  remarkable  man, 
ma'am.  You  will  be  reminded  of  him  here  at  every  turn.  I  have 
got  his  dressing-gown  on  at  this  moment.  No  such  linen  as  this  is 
made  now — you  can't  get  it  for  love  or  money.  Would  you  like  to 
feel  the  texture  ?  Perhaps  you're  no  judge  of  texture  ?  Perhaps 
you  would  prefer  talking  to  me  about  these  two  pupils  of  yours  ? 
They  are  two,  are  they  not  ?  Are  they  fine  girls  ?  Plump,  fresh, 
full-blown  English  beauties  ?" 

"  Excuse  me,  sir,"  interposed  Mrs.  Lecount,  sorrowfully.  "  I  must 
really  beg  permission  to  retire  if  you  speak  of  the  poor  things  in 
that  way.  I  can't  sit  by,  sir,  and  hear  them  turned  into  ridicule. 
Consider  their  position ;  consider  Miss  Garth." 

"  You  good  creature  !"  said  Noel  Vanstone,  surveying  the  house- 
keeper through  his  half-closed  eyelids.  "You  excellent  Lecount! 
I  assure  you,  ma'am,  Mrs.  Lecount  is  a  worthy  creature.  You  will 
observe  that  she  pities  the  two  girls.  I  don't  go  so  far  as  that  my- 
self, but  I  can  make  allowances  for  them.  I  am  a  large-minded 
man.  I  can  make  allowances  for  them  and  for  you."  He  smiled 
with  the  most  cordial  politeness,  and  helped  himself  to  a  strawberry 
from  the  dish  on  his  lap. 

"  You  shock  Miss  Garth  ;  indeed,  sir,  without  meaning  it,  you 
shock  Miss  Garth,"  remonstrated  Mrs.  Lecount.  "  She  is  not  accus- 
tomed to  you  as  I  am.  Consider  Miss  Garth,  sir.  As  a  favor  to  me, 
consider  Miss  Garth." 

Thus  far  Magdalen  had  resolutely  kept  silence.  The  burning 
anger,  which  would  have  betrayed  her  in  an  instant  if  she  had  let  it 
flash  its  way  to  the  surface,  throbbed  fast  and  fiercely  at  her  heart, 
and  warned  her,  while  Noel  Vanstone  was  speaking,  to  close  her 
lips.  She  would  have  allowed  him  to  talk  on  uninterruptedly  for 
some  minutes  more,  if  Mrs.  Lecount  had  not  interfered  for  the 
second  time.  The  refined  insolence  of  the  housekeeper's  pity  was  a 
woman's  insolence ;  and  it  stung  her  into  instantly  controlling  her 
self.  She  had  never  more  admirably  imitated  Miss  Garth's  voice 
and  manner  than  when  she  spoke  her  next  words. 

"  You  are  very  good,"  she  said  to  Mrs.  Lecount.  "  I  make  no  claim 
to  be  treated  with  any  extraordinary  consideifetion.  I  am  a  govern- 
ess, and  I  don't  expect  it.  I  have  only  one  favor  to  ask.  I  beg  Mr. 
Noel  Vanstone,  for  his  own  sake,  to  hear  what  I  have  to  say  to  him." 

"  You  understand,  sir  ?"  observed  Mrs.  Lecount.    "  It  appears  that 


£40  NO    NAME. 

Miss  Garth  has  some  serious  warning  to  give  you.  She  says  you  are 
to  hear  her,  for  your  own  sake." 

Mr.  Noel  Vanstone's  fair  complexion  suddenly  turned  white.  He 
put  away  the  plate  of  strawberries  among  his  father's  bargains.  His 
hand  shook,  and  his  little  figure  twisted  itself  uneasily  in  the  chair. 
Magdalen  observed  him  attentively.  "  One  discovery  already,"  she 
thought ;  "  he  is  a  coward  !" 

"  What  do  you  mean,  ma'am  ?"  asked  Noel  Vanstone,  with  visible 
trepidation  of  look  and  manner.  "  What  do  you  mean  by  telling  me 
I  must  listen  to  you  for  my  own  sake  ?  If  you  come  here  to  intimi- 
date me,  you  come  to  the  wrong  man.  My  strength  of  character  was 
universally  noticed  in  our  circle  at  Zurich — wasn't  it,  Lecount  ?" 

"  Universally,  sir,"  said  Mrs.  Lecount.  "  But  let  us  hear  Miss 
Garth.     Perhaps  I  have  misinterpreted  her  meaning." 

"  On  the  contrary,"  replied  Magdalen,  "  you  have  exactly  expressed 
my  meaning.  My  object  in  coming  here  is  to  warn  Mr.  Noel  Van- 
stone  against  the  course  which  he  is  now  taking." 

"  Don't !"  pleaded  Mrs.  Lecount.  "  Oh,  if  you  want  to  help  these 
poor  girls,  don't  talk  in  that  way  !  Soften  his  resolution,  ma'am,  by 
entreaties ;  don't  strengthen  it  by  threats  !"  She  a  little  overstrained 
the  tone  of  humility  in  which  she  spoke  those  words — a  little  over- 
acted the  look  of  apprehension  which  accompanied  them.  If  Mag- 
dalen had  not  seen  plainly  enough  already  that  it  was  Mrs.  Lecount's 
habitual  practice  to  decide  every  thing  for  her  master  in  the  first  in- 
stance, and  then  to  persuade  him  that  he  was  not  acting  under  his 
housekeeper's  resolution  but  under  his  own,  she  would  have  seen  it 
now. 

"  You  hear  what  Lecount  has  just  said  ?"  remarked  Noel  Vanstone. 
"  You  hear  the  unsolicited  testimony  of  a  person  who  has  known 
me  from  childhood  ?  Take  care,  Miss  Garth — take  care  !"  He  com- 
placently arranged  the  tails  of  his  white  dressing-gown  over  his 
knees,  and  took  the  plate  of  strawberries  back  on  his  lap. 

"  I  have  no  wish  to  offend  you,"  said  Magdalen.  "  I  am  only  anx- 
ious to  open  your  eyes  to  the  truth.  You  are  not  acquainted  with 
the  characters  of  the  two  sisters  whose  fortunes  have  fallen  into  your 
possession.  I  have  known  them  from  childhood ;  and  I  come  to 
give  you  the  benefit  of  my  experience  in  their  interests  and  in  yours. 
You  have  nothing  to  dread  from  the  elder  of  the  two  ;  she  patiently 
accepts  the  hard  lot  which  you,  and  your  father  before  you,  have 
forced  on  her.  The  younger  sister's  conduct  is  the  very  opposite  of 
this.  She  has  already  declined  to  submit  to  your  father's  decision, 
and  she  now  refuses  to  be  silenced  by  Mrs.  Lecount's  letter.  Take 
my  word  for  it,  she  is  capable  of  giving  you  serious  trouble  if  you 
persist  in  making  an  enemy  of  her." 

Noel  Vanstone  changed  color  once  more,  and  began  to  fidget  agaim 


NO    NAME.  241 

in  his  chair.  "  Serious  trouble,"  he  repeated,  with  a  blank  look.  "  If 
you  mean  writing  letters,  ma'am,  she  has  given  trouble  enough  al- 
ready. She  has  written  once  to  me,  and  twice  to  my  father.  One 
of  the  letters  to  my  father  was  a  threatening  letter — wasn't  it,  Le- 
count  ?" 

"  She  expressed  her  feelings,  poor  child,"  said  Mrs.  Lecount.  "  I 
thought  it  hard  to  send  her  back  her  letter,  but  your  dear  father 
knew  best.  What  I  said  at  the  time  was,  Why  not  let  her  express 
her  feelings  ?  What  are  a  few  threatening  words,  after  all  ?  In  her 
position,  poor  creature,  they  are  words,  and  nothing  more." 

"  I  advise  you  not  to  be  too  sure  of  that,"  said  Magdalen.  "  I 
know  her  better  than  you  do." 

She  paused  at  those  words — paused  in  a  momentary  terror.  The 
sting  of  Mrs.  Lecount's  pity  had  nearly  irritated  her  into  forgetting 
her  assumed  character,  and  speaking  in  her  own  voice. 

"You  have  referred  to  the  letters  written  by  my  pupil,"  she  re- 
sumed, addressing  Noel  Vanstone  as  soon  as  she  felt  sure  of  herself 
again.  "We  will  say  nothing  about  what  she  has  written  to  your 
father ;  we  will  only  speak  of  what  she  has  written  to  you.  Is  there 
any  thing  unbecoming  in  her  letter,  any  thing  said  in  it  that  is  false  ? 
Is  it  not  true  that  these  two  sisters  have  been  cruelly  deprived  of  the 
provision  which  their  father  made  for  them  ?  His  will  to  this  day 
speaks  for  him  and  for  them  ;  and  it  only  speaks  to  no  purpose,  be- 
cause he  was  not  aware  that  his  marriage  obliged  him  to  make  it 
again,  and  because  he  died  before  he  could  remedy  the  error.  Can 
you  deny  that  ?" 

Noel  Vanstone  smiled,  and  helped  himself  to  a  strawberry.  "I 
don't  attempt  to  deny  it,"  he  said.     "  Go  on,  Miss  Garth." 

"  Is  it  not  true,"  persisted  Magdalen, "  that  the  law  which  has 
taken  the  money  from  these  sisters,  whose  father  made  no  second 
will,  has  now  given  that  very  money  to  you,  whose  father  made  no 
will  at  all  ?  Surely,  explain  it  how  you  may,  this  is  hard  on  those 
orphan  girls  ?" 

"  Very  hard,"  replied  Noel  Vanstone.  "  It  strikes  you  in  that 
light,  too — doesn't  it,  Lecount  ?" 

Mrs.  Lecount  shook  her  head,  and  closed  her  handsome  black  eyes. 
"  Harrowing,"  she  said ;  "  I  can  characterize  it,  Miss  Garth,  by  no 
other  word — harrowing.  How  the  young  person — no  !  how  Miss 
Vanstone,  the  younger — discovered  that  my  late  respected  master 
made  no  will,  I  am  at  a  loss  to  understand.  Perhaps  it  was  put  in 
the  papers  ?  But  I  am  interrupting  you,  Miss  Garth.  You  have  some- 
thing more  to  say  about  your  pupil's  letter  ?"  She  noiselessly  drew  her 
chair  forward,  as  she  said  these  words,  a  few  inches  beyond  the  line 
of  the  visitor's  chair.  The  attempt  was  neatly  made,  but  it  proved 
useless.     Magdalen  only  kept  her  head  more  to  the  left,  and  the 


242  NO    NAME. 

packing-case  on  the  floor  prevented  Mrs.  Lecount  from  advancing 
any  farther. 

"  I  have  only  one  more  question  to  put,"  said  Magdalen.  "  My 
pupil's  letter  addressed  a  proposal  to  Mr.  Noel  Vanstone.  I  beg 
him  to  inform  me  why  he  has  refused  to  consider  it." 

"  My  good  lady  !"  cried  Noel  Vanstone,  arching  his  white  eye- 
brows in  satirical  astonishment.  "Are  you  really  in  earnest?  Do 
you  know  what  the  proposal  is  ?     Have  you  seen  the  letter  ?" 

"  I  am  quite  in  earnest,"  said  Magdalen,  "  and  I  have  seen  the 
letter.  It  entreats  you  to  remember  how  Mr.  Andrew  Vanstone's 
fortune  has  come  into  your  hands ;  it  informs  you  that  one-half  of 
that  fortune,  divided  between  his  daughters,  was  what  his  will  in- 
tended them  to  have ;  and  it  asks  of  your  sense  of  justice  to  do  for 
his  children  what  he  would  have  done  for  them  himself  if  he  had 
lived.  In  plainer  words  still,  it  asks  you  to  give  one-half  of  the 
money  to  the  daughters,  and  it  leaves  you  free  to  keep  the  other 
half  yourself.  That  is  the  proposal.  Why  have  you  refused  to  con- 
sider it  ?" 

"  For  the  simplest  possible  reason,  Miss  Garth,"  said  Noel  Van- 
stone, in  high  good-humor.  "  Allow  me  to  remind  you  of  a  well- 
known  proverb  :  A  fool  and  his  money  are  soon  parted.  Whatever 
else  I  may  be,  ma'am,  I'm  not  a  fool." 

"  Don't  put  it  in  that  way,  sir !"  remonstrated  Mrs.  Lecount.  "  Be 
serious — pray  be  serious  !" 

"  Quite  impossible,  Lecount,"  rejoined  her  master.  "  I  can't  be 
serious.  My  poor  father,  Miss  Garth,  took  a  high  moral  point  of 
view  in  this  matter.  Lecount,  there,  takes  a  high  moral  point  of 
view — don't  you,  Lecount  ?  I  do  nothing  of  the  sort.  I  have  lived 
too  long  in  the  Continental  atmosphere  to  trouble  myself  about 
moral  points  of  view.  My  course  in  this  business  is  as  plain  as  two 
and  two  make  four.  I  have  got  the  money,  and  I  should  be  a  born 
idiot  if  I  parted  with  it.  There  is  my  point  of  view !  Simple 
enough,  isn't  it  ?  I  don't  stand  on  my  dignity ;  I  don't  meet  you 
with  the  law,  which  is  all  on  my  side ;  I  don't  blame  your  coming 
here,  as  a  total  stranger,  to  try  and  alter  my  resolution ;  I  don't 
blame  the  two  girls  for  wanting  to  dip  their  fingers  into  my  purse. 
All  I  say  is,  I  am  not  fool  enough  to  open  it.  Pas  si  fate,  as  we 
used  to  say  in  the  EngUsh  circle  at  Zurich.  You  understand 
French,  Miss  Garth  ?  Pas  si  Mte  /"  He  set  aside  his  plate  of  straw- 
berries once  more,  and  daintily  dried  his  fingers  on  his  fine  white 
napkin. 

Magdalen  kept  her  temper.  If  she  could  have  struck  him  dead 
by  lifting  her  hand  at  that  moment,  it  is  probable  she  would  have 
lifted  it.     But  she  kept  her  temper. 

"  Am  I  to  understand,"  she  asked,  "  that  the  last  words  you  have 


NO   NAME.  24o 

to  say  in  this  matter  are  the  words  said  for  you  in  Mrs.  Lecount's 
letter  ?" 

"  Precisely  so,"  replied  Noel  Vanstone. 

"You  have  inherited  your  own  father's  fortune,  as  well  as  the 
fortune  of  Mr.  Andrew  Vanstone,  and  yet  you  feel  no  obligation  to 
act  from  motives  of  justice  or  generosity  toward  these  two  sisters? 
All  you  think  it  necessary  to  say  to  them  is,  you  have  got  the  mon- 
ey, and  you  refuse  to  part  with  a  single  farthing  of  it?" 

"Most  accurately  stated  !  Miss  Garth,  you  are  a  woman  of  busi- 
ness.    Lecount,  Miss  Garth  is  a  woman  of  business." 

"  Don't  appeal  to  me,  sir,"  cried  Mrs.  Lecount,  gracefully  wring- 
ing her  plump  white  hands.  "  I  can't  bear  it !  I  must  interfere  ! 
Let  me  suggest — oh,  what  do  you  call  it  in  English  ? — a  compro- 
mise. Dear  Mr.  Noel,  you  are  perversely  refusing  to  do  yourself  jus- 
tice; you  have  better  reasons  than  the  reason  you  have  given  to 
Miss  Garth.  You  follow  your  honored  father's  example ;  you  feel 
it  due  to  his  memory  to  act  in  this  matter  as  he  acted  before  you. 
That  is  his  reason,  Miss  Garth — I  implore  you  on  my  knees  take 
that  as  his  reason.  He  will  do  what  his  dear  father  did ;  no  more, 
no  less.  His  dear  father  made  a  proposal,  and  he  himself  will  now 
make  that  proposal  over  again.  Yes,  Mr.  Noel,  you  will  remember 
what  this  poor  girl  says  in  her  letter  to  you.  Her  sister  has  been 
obliged  to  go  out  as  a  governess ;  and  she  herself,  in  losing  her  for- 
tune, has  lost  the  hope  of  her  marriage  for  years  and  years  to  come. 
You  will  remember  this — and  you  will  give  the  hundred  pounds  to 
one,  and  the  hundred  pounds  to  the  other,  which  your  admirable 
father  offered  in  the  past  time  ?  If  he  does  this,  Miss  Garth,  will 
he  do  enough  ?  If  he  gives  a  hundred  pounds  each  to  these  unfor- 
tunate sisters —  ?" 

"  He  will  repent  the  insult  to  the  last  hour  of  his  life,"  said  Mag- 
dalen. 

The  instant  that  answer  passed  her  lips  she  would  have  given 
worlds  to  recall  it.  Mrs.  Lecount  had  planted  her  sting  in  the  right 
place  at  last.  Those  rash  words  of  Magdalen's  had  burst  from  her 
passionately,  in  her  own  voice. 

Nothing  but  the  habit  of  public  performance  saved  her  from  mak- 
ing the  serious  error  that  she  had  committed  more  palpable  still,  by 
attempting  to  set  it  right.  Here  her  past  practice  in  the  Enter- 
tainment came  to  her  rescue,  and  urged  her  to  go  on  instantly  in 
Miss  Garth's  voice  as  if  nothing  had  happened. 

"  You  mean  well,  Mrs.  Lecount,"  she  continued,  "  but  you  are  do- 
ing harm  instead  of  good.  My  pupils  will  accept  no  such  compro- 
mise as  you  propose.  I  am  sorry  to  have  spoken  violently  just  now ; 
I  beg  you  will  excuse  me."  She  looked  hard  for  information  in  the 
housekeeper's  face  while  she  spoke  those  conciliatory  words.     Mrs. 


244  NO    NAME. 

[.(•count  baffled  the  look  by  putting  her  handkerchief  to  her  eyes. 
Had  she,  or  had  she  not,  noticed  the  momentary  change  in  Mag- 
dalen's voice  from  the  tones  that  were  assumed  to  the  tones  that 
were  natural  ?     Impossible  to  say. 

"  What  more  can  I  do  !"  murmured  Mrs.  Lecount  behind  her 
handkerchief.  "  Give  me  time  to  think — give  me  time  to  recover 
myself.  May  I  retire,  sir,  for  a  moment  ?  My  nerves  are  shaken  by 
this  sad  scene.  I  must  have  a  glass  of  water,  or  I  think  I  shall  faint. 
Don't  go  yet,  Miss  Garth.  I  beg  you  will  give  us  time  to  set  this 
sad  matter  right,  if  we  can — I  beg  you  will  remain  until  I  come 
back." 

There  were  two  doors  of  entrance  to  the  room.  One,  the  door 
into  the  front  parlor,  close  at  Magdalen's  left  hand.  The  other,  the 
door  into  the  back  parlor,  situated  behind  her.  Mrs.  Lecount  po- 
litely retired — through  the  open  folding-doors — by  this  latter  means 
of  exit,  so  as  not  to  disturb  the  visitor  by  passing  in  front  of  her. 
Magdalen  waited  until  she  heard  the  door  open  and  close  again  be- 
hind her,  and  then  resolved  to  make  the  most  of  the  opportunity 
which  left  her  alone  with  Noel  Vanstone.  The  utter  hopelessness 
of  rousing  a  generous  impulse  in  that  base  nature  had  now  been 
proved  by  her  own  experience.  The  last  chance  left  was  to  treat 
him  like  the  craven  creature  he  was,  and  to  influence  him  through 
his  fears. 

Before  she  could  speak,  Noel  Vanstone  himself  broke  the  silence. 
Cunningly  as  he  strove  to  hide  it,  he  was  half  angry,  half  alarmed 
at  his  housekeeper's  desertion  of  him.  He  looked  doubtingly  at  his 
visitor ;  he  showed  a  nervous  anxiety  to  conciliate  her  until  Mrs.  Le- 
count's  return. 

"  Pray  remember,  ma'am,  I  never  denied  that  this  case  was  a  hard 
one,"  he  began.  "  You  said  just  now  you  had  no  wish  to  offend  me 
— and  I'm  sure  I  don't  want  to  offend  you.  May  I  offer  you  some 
strawberries  ?  Would  you  like  to  look  at  my  father's  bargains  ?  I 
assure  you,  ma'am,  I  am  naturally  a  gallant  man ;  and  I  feel  for  both 
these  sisters — especially  the  younger  one.  Touch  me  on  the  subject 
of  the  tender  passion,  and  you  touch  me  on  a  weak  place.  Nothing 
would  please  me  more  than  to  hear  that  Miss  Vanstone's  lover  (I'm 
sure  I  always  call  her  Miss  Vanstone,  and  so  does  Lecount) — I  say, 
ma'am,  nothing  would  please  me  more  than  to  hear  that  Miss  Van- 
stone's  lover  had  come  back  and  married  her.  If  a  loan  of  money 
would  be  likely  to  bring  him  back,  and  if  the  security  offered  was 
good,  and  if  my  lawyer  thought  me  justified — " 

"  Stop,  Mr.  Vanstone,"  said  Magdalen.  "  You  are  entirely  mis- 
taken in  your  estimate  of  the  person  you  have  to  deal  with.  You 
are  seriously  wrong  in  supposing  that  the  marriage  of  the  younger 
sister — if  she  could  be  married  in  a  week's  time — would  make  any 


NO    NAME.  245 

difference  in  the  convictions  which  induced  her  to  write  to  your 
father  and  to  you.  I  don't  deny  that  she  may  act  from  a  mixture 
of  motives.  I  don't  deny  that  she  clings  to  the  hope  of  hastening 
her  marriage,  and  to  the  hope  of  rescuing  her  sister  from  a  life  of 
dependence.  But  if  both  those  objects  were  accomplished  by  oilier 
means,  nothing  would  induce  her  to  leave  you  in  possession  of  the 
inheritance  which  her  father  meant  his  children  to  have.  I  know 
her,  Mr.  Vanstone  1  She  is  a  nameless,  homeless,  friendless  wretch. 
The  law  which  takes  care  of  you,  the  law  which  takes  care  of  all 
legitimate  children,  casts  her  like  carrion  to  the  winds.  It  is  your 
law — not  hers.  She  only  knows  it  as  the  instrument  of  a  vile  op- 
pression, an  insufferable  wrong.  The  sense  of  that  wrong  haunts 
her  like  a  possession  of  the  devil.  The  resolution  to  right  that 
wrong  burns  in  her  like  fire.  If  that  miserable  girl  was  married 
and  rich,  with  millions  to-morrow,  do  you  think  she  would  move 
an  inch  from  her  purpose  ?  I  tell  you  she  would  resist,  to  the  last 
breath  in  her  body,  the  vile  injustice  which  has  struck  at  the  help- 
less children,  through  the  calamity  of  their  father's  death !  I  tell 
you  she  would  shrink  from  no  means  which  a  desperate  woman 
can  employ  to  force  that  closed  hand  of  yours  open,  or  die  in  the 
attempt !" 

She  stopped  abruptly.  Once  more  her  own  indomitable  earnest- 
ness had  betrayed  her.  Once  more  the  inborn  nobility  of  that 
perverted  nature  had  risen  superior  to  the  deception  which  it  had 
stooped  to  practice.  The  scheme  of  the  moment  vanished  from  her 
mind's  view ;  and  the  resolution  of  her  life  burst  its  way  outward 
in  her  own  words,  in  her  own  tones,  pouring  hotly  and  more  hotly 
from  her  heart.  She  saw  the  abject  manikin  before  her  cowering, 
silent,  in  his  chair.  Had  his  fears  left  him  sense  enough  to  perceive 
the  change  in  her  voice  ?  No :  his  face  spoke  the  truth — his  fears 
had  bewildered  him.  This  time  the  chance  of  the  moment  had  be- 
friended her.  The  door  behind  her  chair  had  not  opened  again 
yet.  "  No  ears  but  his  have  heard  me,"  she  thought,  with  a  sense 
of  unutterable  relief.     "  I  have  escaped  Mrs.  Lecount." 

She  had  done  nothing  of  the  kind.  Mrs.  Lecount  had  never  left 
the  room. 

After  opening  the  door  and  closing  it  again,  without  going  out, 
the  housekeeper  had  noiselessly  knelt  down  behind  Magdalen's 
chair.  Steadying  herself  against  the  post  of  the  folding-door,  she 
took  a  pair  of  scissors  from  her  pocket,  waited  until  Noel  Vanstone 
(from  whose  view  she  was  entirely  hidden)  had  attracted  Magdalen's 
attention  by  speaking  to  her,  and  then  bent  forward,  with  the  scis- 
sors ready  in  her  hand.  The  skirt  of  the  false  Miss  Garth's  gown, 
— the  brown  alpaca  dress,  with  the  white  spots  on  it — touched  the 
floor,  within  the  housekeeper's  reach.     Mrs.  Lecount  lifted  the  outer 


246  NO    NAME. 

of  th°  two  flounces  which  ran  round  the  bottom  of  the  dress  one 
over  the  other,  softly  cut  away  a  little  irregular  fragment  of  stuff 
from  the  inner  flounce,  and  neatly  smoothed  the  outer  one  over  it 
again,  so  as  to  hide  the  gap.  By  the  time  she  had  put  the  scissors 
back  in  her  pocket,  and  had  risen  to  her  feet  (sheltering  herself  be- 
hind the  post  of  the  folding-door),  Magdalen  had  spoken  her  last 
words.  Mrs.  Lecount  quietly  repeated  the  ceremony  of  opening  and 
shutting  the  back  parlor  door  ;  and  returned  to  her  place. 

"  What  has  happened,  sir,  in  my  absence  ?"  she  inquired,  address- 
ing her  master  with  a  look  of  alarm.  "  You  are  pale  ;  you  are  agi- 
tated !  Oh,  Miss  Garth,  have  you  forgotten  the  caution  I  gave  you 
in  the  other  room  ?" 

"  Miss  Garth  has  forgotten  every  thing,"  cried  Noel  Vanstone,  re- 
covering his  lost  composure  on  the  re-apj)earance  of  Mrs.  Lecount. 
"  Miss  Garth  has  threatened  me  in  the  most  outrageous  manner.  I 
forbid  you  to  pity  either  of  those  two  girls  any  more,  Lecount — 
especially  the  younger  one.  She  is  the  most  desperate  wretch  I  ever 
heard  of !  If  she  can't  get  my  money  by  fair  means,  she  threatens 
to  have  it  by  foul.  Miss  Garth  has  told  me  that  to  my  face.  To 
my  face !"  he  repeated,  folding  his  arms,  and  looking  mortally  in- 
sulted. 

"  Compose  yourself,  sir,"  said  Mrs.  Lecount.  "  Pray  compose 
yourself,  and  leave  me  to  speak  to  Miss  Garth.  I  regret  to  hear, 
ma'am,  that  you  have  forgotten  what  I  said  to  you  in  the  next  room. 
You  have  agitated  Mr.  Noel ;  you  have  compromised  the  interests 
you  came  here  to  plead ;  and  you  have  only  repeated  what  we  knew 
before.  The  language  you  have  allowed  yourself  to  use  in  my  ab- 
sence is  the  same  language  which  your  pupil  was  foolish  enough  to 
employ  when  she  wrote  for  the  second  time  to  my  late  master.  How 
can  a  lady  of  your  years  and  experience  seriously  repeat  such  non- 
sense ?  This  girl  boasts  and  threatens.  She  will  do  this ;  she  will 
do  that.  You  have  her  confidence,  ma'am.  Tell  me,  if  you  please, 
in  plain  words,  what  can  she  do  ?" 

Sharply  as  the  taunt  was  pointed,  it  glanced  off  harmless.  Mrs. 
Lecount  had  planted  her  sting  once  too  often.  Magdalen  rose  in 
complete  possession  of  her  assumed  character,  and  composedly 
terminated  the  interview.  Ignorant  as  she  was  of  what  had  hap- 
pened behind  her  chair,  she  saw  a  change  in  Mrs.  Lecount's  look 
and  manner  which  warned  her  to  run  no  more  risks,  and  to  trust 
herself  no  longer  in  the  house. 

"  I  am  not  in  my  pupil's  confidence,"  she  said.  "  Her  own  acts 
will  answer  your  question  when  the  time  comes.  I  can  only  tell 
you,  from  my  own  knowledge  of  her,  that  she  is  no  boaster.  What 
she  wrote  to  Mr.  Michael  Vanstone  was  what  she  was  prepared  to 
do — what,  I  have  reason  to  think,  she  was  actually  on  the  point  of 


NO   NAME.  247 

doing,  when  her  plans  were  overthrown  by  his  death.  Mr.  Michael 
Vanstone's  son  has  only  to  persist  in  following  his  father's  course  to 
find,  before  long,  that  I  am  not  mistaken  in  my  pupil,  and  that  I 
have  not  come  here  to  intimidate  him  by  empty  threats.  My  errand 
is  done.  I  leave  Mr.  Noel  Vanstone  with  two  alternatives  to  choose 
from.  I  leave  him  to  share  Mr.  Andrew  Vanstone's  fortune  with 
Mr.  Andrew  Vanstone's  daughters  —  or  to  persist  in  his  present  re- 
fusal and  face  the  consequences."  She  bowed,  and  walked  to  the 
door. 

Noel  Vanstone  started  to  his  feet,  with  anger  and  alarm  strug- 
gling which  should  express  itself  first  in  his  blank  white  face.  Be- 
fore he  could  open  his  lips,  Mrs.  Lecount's  plump  hands  descended 
on  his  shoulders,  put  him  softly  back  in  his  chair,  and  restored  the 
plate  of  strawberries  to  its  former  position  on  his  lap. 

"  Refresh  yourself,  Mr.  Noel,  with  a  few  more  strawberries,"  she 
said,  "  and  leave  Miss  Garth  to  me." 

She  followed  Magdalen  into  the  passage,  and  closed  the  door  of 
the  room  after  her. 

"  Are  you  residing  in  London,  ma'am  ?"  asked  Mrs.  Lecount. 

"  No,"  replied  Magdalen.     "  I  reside  in  the  country." 

"  If  I  want  to  write  to  you,  where  can  I  address  my  letter  ?" 

"  To  the  post-office,  Birmingham,"  said  Magdalen,  mentioning  the 
place  which  she  had  last  left,  and  at  which  all  letters  were  still  ad- 
dressed to  her. 

Mrs.  Lecount  repeated  the  direction  to  fix  it  in  her  memory,  ad- 
vanced two  steps  in  the  passage,  and  quietly  laid  her  right  hand  on 
Magdalen's  arm. 

u  A  word  of  advice,  ma'am,"  she  said ;  "  one  word  at  parting. 
You  are  a  bold  woman  and  a  clever  woman.  Don't  be  too  bold; 
don't  be  too  clever.  You  are  risking  more  than  you  think  for." 
She  suddenly  raised  herself  on  tiptoe,  and  whispered  the  next  words 
in  Magdalen's  ear.  "J  hold  you  in  the  hollow  of  my  hand!"  said 
Mrs.  Lecount,  with  a  fierce  hissing  emphasis  on  every  syllable. 
Her  left  hand  clenched  itself  stealthily  as  she  spoke.  It  was  the 
hand  in  which  she  had  concealed  the  fragment  of  stuff  from  Mag- 
dalen's gown — the  hand  which  held  it  fast  at  that  moment. 

"  What  do  you  mean  ?"  asked  Magdalen,  pushing  her  back. 

Mrs.  Lecount  glided  away  politely  to  open  the  house  door. 

"  I  mean  nothing  now,"  she  said ;  "  wait  a  little,  and  time  may 
show.  One  last  question,  ma'am,  before  I  bid  you  good-bye.  When 
your  pupil  was  a  little  innocent  child,  did  she  ever  amuse  herself  by 
building  a  house  of  cards  ?" 

Magdalen  impatiently  answered  by  a  gesture  in  the  affirmative. 

"  Did  you  ever  see  her  build  up  the  house  higher  and  higher," 
proceeded  Mrs.  Lecount,  "  till  it  was  quite  a  pagoda  of  cards  ?     Did 


248  NO    NAME. 

you  ever  see  her  open  her  little  child's  eyes  wide  and  look  at  it,  and 
feel  so  proud  of  what  she  had  done  already  that  she  wanted  to  do 
more  ?  Did  you  ever  see  her  steady  her  pretty  little  hand,  and  hold 
her  innocent  breath,  and  put  one  other  card  on  the  top,  and  lay  the 
whole  house,  the  instant  afterward,  a  heap  of  ruins  on  the  table? 
Ah,  you  have  seen  that.  Give  her,  if  you  please,  a  friendly  message 
from  me.  I  venture  to  say  she  has  built  the  house  high  enough  al- 
ready ;  and  I  recommend  her  to  be  careful  before  she  puts  on  that 
other  card." 

"  She  shall  have  your  message,"  said  Magdalen,  with  Miss  Garth's 
bluntness,  and  Miss  Garth's  emphatic  nod  of  the  head.  "But  I 
doubt  her  minding  it.  Her  hand  is  rather  steadier  than  you  sup- 
pose, and  I  think  she  will  put  on  the  other  card." 

"And  bring  the  house  down,"  said  Mrs.  Lecount. 

"And  build  it  up  again,"  rejoined  Magdalen.  "  I  wish  you  good- 
morning." 

"  Good-morning,"  said  Mrs.  Lecount,  opening  the  door.  "  One 
last  word,  Miss  Garth.  Do  think  of  what  I  said  in  the  back  room  I 
Do  try  the  Golden  Ointment  for  that  sad  affliction  in  your  eyes !" 

As  Magdalen  crossed  the  threshold  of  the  door,  she  was  met  by 
the  postman  ascending  the  house  steps  with  a  letter  picked  out 
from  the  bundle  in  his  hand.  "  Noel  Vanstone,  Esquire  ?"  she 
heard  the  man  say,  interrogatively,  as  she  made  her  way  down  the 
front  garden  to  the  street. 

She  passed  through  the  garden  gate,  little  thinking  from  what 
new  difficulty  and  new  danger  her  timely  departure  had  saved  her. 
The  letter  which  the  postman  had  just  delivered  into  the  house- 
keeper's hands  was  no  other  than  the  anonymous  letter  addressed 
to  Noel  Vanstone  by  Captain  Wragge. 


CHAPTER  IV. 

Mrs.  Lecount  returned  to  the  parlor,  with  the  fragment  of  Mag- 
dalen's dress  in  one  hand,  and  with  Captain  Wragge's  letter  in  the 
other. 

"Have  you  got  rid  of  her?"  asked  Noel  Vanstone.  "Have  you 
shut  the  door  at  last  on  Miss  Garth  ?" 

"  Don't  call  her  Miss  Garth,  sir,"  said  Mrs.  Lecount,  smiling  con- 
temptuously. "  She  is  as  much  Miss  Garth  as  you  are.  We  have 
been  favored  by  the  performance  of  a  clever  masquerade;  and  if  we 
had  taken  the  disguise  off  our  visitor,  I  think  we  should  have  found 
under  it  Miss  Vanstone  herself. — Here  is  a  letter  for  you,  sir,  which 
the  postman  has  just  left." 


NO   NAME.  249 

She  put  the  letter  on  the  table  within  her  master's  reach.  Noel 
Vanstone's  amazement  at  the  discovery  just  communicated  to  him 
kept  his  whole  attention  concentrated  on  the  housekeeper's  lace. 
He  never  so  much  as  looked  at  the  letter  wheu  she  placed  it  before 
him. 

"  Take  my  word  for  it,  sir,"  proceeded  Mrs.  Lecount,  composedly 
taking  a  chair.  "  When  our  visitor  gets  home  she  will  put  her  gray 
hair  away  in  a  box,  and  will  cure  that  sad  affliction  in  her  eyes  with 
warm  water  and  a  sponge.  If  she  had  painted  the  marks  on  her 
face  as  well  as  she  painted  the  inflammation  in  her  eyes,  the  light 
would  have  shown  me  nothing,  and  I  should  certainly  have  been 
deceived.  But  I  saw  the  marks ;  I  saw  a  young  woman's  skin  un- 
der that  dirty  complexion  of  hers ;  I  heard  in  this  room  a  true  voice 
in  a  passion,  as  well  as  a  false  voice  talking  with  an  accent,  and  I 
don't  believe  in  one  morsel  of  that  lady's  personal  appearance  from 
top.  to  toe.  The  girl  herself,  in  my  opinion,  Mr.  Noel — and  a  bold 
girl  too." 

"  Why  didn't  you  lock  the  door  and  send  for  the  police  ?"  asked 
Mr.  Noel.  "  My  father  would  have  sent  for  the  police.  You  know, 
as  well  as  I  do,  Lecount,  my  father  would  have  sent  for  the  police." 

"Pardon  me,  sir,"  said  Mrs.  Lecount,  "I  think  your  father  would 
have  waited  until  he  had  got  something  more  for  the  police  to  do 
than  we  have  got  for  them  yet.  We  shall  see  this  lady  again,  sir. 
Perhaps  she  will  come  here  next  time  with  her  own  face  and  her 
own  voice.  I  am  curious  to  see  what  her  own  face  is  like.  I  am 
curious  to  know  whether  what  I  have  heard  of  her  voice  in  a  pas- 
sion is  enough  to  make  me  recognize  her  voice  when  she  is  calm. 
I  possess  a  little  memorial  of  her  visit  of  which  she  is  not  aware, 
and  she  will  not  escape  me  so  easily  as  she  thinks.  If  it  turns  out 
a  useful  memorial,  you  shall  know  what  it  is.  If  not,  I  will  abstain 
from  troubling  you  on  so  trifling  a  subject. — Allow  me  to  remind 
you,  sir,  of  the  letter  under  your  hand.  You  have  not  looked  at  it 
yet." 

Noel  Vanstone  opened  the  letter.  He  started  as  his  eye  fell  on 
the  first  lines — hesitated — and  then  hurriedly  read  it  through.  The 
paper  dropped  from  his  hand,  and  he  sank  back  in  his  chair.  Mrs. 
Lecount  sprang  to  her  feet  with  the  alacrity  of  a  young  woman  and 
picked  up  the  letter. 

"  What  has  happened,  sir  ?"  she  asked.  Her  face  altered  as  she 
put  the  question,  and  her  large  black  eyes  hardened  fiercely,  in  gen- 
uine astonishment  and  alarm. 

"  Send  for  the  police,"  exclaimed  her  master.  "  Lecount,  I  insist 
on  being  protected.     Send  for  the  police  !" 

"  May  I  read  the  letter,  sir  ?" 

He  feebly  waved  his  hand.     Mrs.  Lecount  read  the  letter  atten- 


250  NO   NAME. 

tively,  and  put  it  aside  on  the  table,  without  a  word,  when  she  had 
done. 

"  Have  you  nothing  to  say  to  me  ?"  asked  Noel  Vanstone,  staring 
at  his  housekeeper  in  blank  dismay.  "  Lecount,  I'm  to  be  robbed ! 
The  scoundrel  who  wrote  that  letter  knows  all  about  it,  and  won't 
tell  me  any  thing  unless  I  pay  him.  I'm  to  be  robbed !  Here's 
property  on  this  table  worth  thousands  of  pounds — property  that 
can  never  be  replaced — property  that  all  the  crowned  heads  in  Eu- 
rope could  not  produce  if  they  tried.  Lock  me  in,  Lecount,  and 
send  for  the  police !" 

Instead  of  sending  for  the  police,  Mrs.  Lecount  took  a  large  green  pa- 
per fan  from  the  chimney-piece,  and  seated  herself  opposite  her  master. 

"You  are  agitated,  Mr.  Noel,"  she  said,  "you  are  heated.  Let 
me  cool  you." 

With  her  face  as  hard  as  ever — with  less  tenderness  of  look  and 
manner  than  most  women  would  have  shown  if  they  had  been  res- 
cuing a  half-drowned  fly  from  a  milk-jug — she  silently  and  patient- 
ly fanned  him  for  five  minutes  or  more.  No  practiced  eye  observ- 
ing the  peculiar  bluish  pallor  of  his  complexion,  and  the  marked 
difficulty  with  which  he  drew  his  breath,  could  have  failed  to  per- 
ceive that  the  great  organ  of  life  was  in  this  man,  what  the  house- 
keeper had  stated  it  to  be,  too  weak  for  the  function  which  it  was 
called  on  to  perform.  The  heart  labored  over  its  work  as  if  it  had 
been  the  heart  of  a  worn-out  old  man. 

"  Are  you  relieved,  sir  ?"  asked  Mrs.  Lecount.  "  Can  you  think  a 
little  ?     Can  you  exercise  your  better  judgment  ?" 

She  rose  and  put  her  hand  over  his  heart  with  as  much  mechan- 
ical attention  and  as  little  genuine  interest  as  if  she  had  been  feeling 
the  plates  at  dinner  to  ascertain  if  they  had  been  properly  warmed. 
"  Yes,"  she  went  on,  seating  herself  again,  and  resuming  the  exercise 
of  the  fan ;  "  you  are  getting  better  already,  Mr.  Noel. — Don't  ask  me 
about  this  anonymous  letter  until  you  have  thought  for  yourself,  and 
have  given  your  own  opinion  first."  She  went  on  with  the  fanning, 
and  looked  him  hard  in  the  face  all  the  time.  "  Think,"  she  said ; 
"think,  sir,  without  troubling  yourself  to  express  your  thoughts. 
Trust  to  my  intimate  sympathy  with  you  to  read  them.  Yes,  Mr. 
Noel,  this  letter  is  a  paltry  attempt  to  frighten  you.  What  does  u 
say  ?  It  says  you  are  the  object  of  a  conspiracy  directed  by  Miss 
Vanstone.  We  know  that  already — the  lady  of  the  inflamed  eyes 
has  told  us.  We  snap  our  fingers  at  the  conspiracy.  What  does 
the  letter  3ay  next  ?  It  says  the  writer  has  valuable  information  to 
give  you  if  you  will  pay  for  it.  What  did  you  call  this  person  your- 
self just  now,  sir?" 

"  I  called  him  a  scoundrel,"  said  Noel  Vanstone,  recovering  his 
self-importance,  and  raising  himself  gradually  in  his  chair. 


NO    NAME.  251 

;'  I  agree  with  you  in  that,  sir,  as  I  agree  in  every  thing  else,"  pro- 
ceeded Mrs.  Lecount.  "  He  is  a  scoundrel  who  really  has  this  infor- 
mation, and  who  means  what  he  says,  or  he  is  a  mouth-piece  of  Miss 
Vanstone's,  and  she  has  caused  this  letter  to  be  written  for  the  pur- 
pose of  puzzling  us  by  another  form  of  disguise.  Whether  the  let- 
ter is  true,  or  whether  the  letter  is  false — am  I  not  reading  your  own 
wiser  thoughts  now,  Mr.  Noel  ? — you  know  better  than  to  put  your 
enemies  on  their  guard  by  employing  the  police  in  this  matter  too 
soon.  I  quite  agree  with  you — no  police  just  yet.  You  will  allow 
this  anonymous  man,  or  anonymous  woman,  to  suppose  you  are  eas- 
ily frightened ;  you  will  lay  a  trap  for  the  information  in  return  for 
the  trap  laid  for  your  money ;  you  will  answer  the  letter,  and  see 
what  comes  of  the  answer ;  and  you  will  only  pay  the  expense  of 
employing  the  police  when  you  know  the  expense  is  necessary.  I 
agree  with  you  again — no  expense,  if  we  can  help  it.  In  every  par- 
ticular, Mr.  Noel,  my  mind  and  your  mind  in  this  matter  are  one." 

"  It  strikes  you  in  that  light,  Lecount— does  it  ?"  said  Noel  Van- 
stone.  "  I  think  so  myself;  I  certainly  think  so.  I  won't  pay  the 
police  a  farthing  if  I  can  possibly  help  it."  He  took  up  the  letter 
again,  and  became  fretfully  perplexed  over  a  second  reading  of  it. 
"  But  the  man  wants  money  !"  he  broke  out,  impatiently.  "  You 
seem  to  forget,  Lecount,  that  the  man  wants  money." 

"  Money  which  you  offer  him,  sir,"  rejoined  Mrs.  Lecount ;  "  but — 
as  your  thoughts  have  already  anticipated — money  which  you  don't 
give  him.  No  !  no !  you  say  to  this  man, '  Hold  out  your  hand,  sir ;' 
and  when  he  has  held  it,  you  give  him  a  smack  for  his  pains,  and 
put  your  own  hand  back  in  your  pocket. — I  am  so  glad  to  see  you 
laughing,  Mr.  Noel !  so  glad  to  see  you  getting  back  your  good  spir- 
its. We  will  answer  the  letter  by  advertisement,  as  the  writer  di- 
rects— advertisement  is  so  cheap !  Your  poor  hand  is  trembling  a 
little — shall  I  hold  the  pen  for  you  ?  I  am  not  fit  to  do  more ;  but 
I  can  always  promise  to  hold  the  pen." 

Without  waiting  for  his  reply,  she  went  into  the  back  parlor,  and 
returned  with  pen,  ink,  and  paper.  Arranging  a  blotting-book  on 
her  knees,  and  looking  a  model  of  cheerful  submission,  she  placed 
herself  once  more  in  front  of  her  master's  chair. 

"  Shall  I  write  from  your  dictation,  sir  ?"  she  inquired.  "  Or  shall 
I  make  a  little  sketch,  and  will  you  correct  it  afterward  ?  I  will 
make  a  little  sketch.  Let  me  see  the  letter.  We  are  to  advertise 
in  the  Times,  and  we  are  to  address  '  An  Unknown  Friend.'  What 
shall  I  say,  Mr.  Noel  ?  Stay ;  I  will  write  it,  and  then  you  can  see 
for  yourself:  'An  Unknown  Friend  is  requested  to  mention  (by  ad- 
vertisement) an  address  at  which  a  letter  can  reach  him.  The  re- 
ceipt of  the  information  which  he  offers  will  be  acknowledged  by  a 
reward  of — '    What  sum  of  money  do  you  wish  me  to  set  down,  sir  ?" 


252  NO   NAME. 

"  Set  down  nothing,"  said  Noel  Vanstone,  with  a  sudden  outbreak 
of  impatience.  "  Money  matters  are  my  business — I  say  money  mat- 
ters are  my  business,  Lecount.     Leave  it  to  mv." 

"  Certainly,  sir,"  replied  Mrs.  Lecount,  handing  her  master  the 
blotting-book.  u  You  will  not  forget  to  be  liberal  in  offering  mon- 
ey when  you  know  beforehand  you  don't  mean  to  part  with  it  ?" 

"  Don't  dictate,  Lecount !  I  won't  submit  to  dictation  !"  said  Noel 
Vanstone,  asserting  his  own  independence  more  and  more  impatiently. 
"  I  mean  to  conduct  this  business  for  myself.    I  am  master,  Lecount !" 

"  You  are  master,  sir." 

"  My  father  was  master  before  me.  And  I  am  my  father's  son.  I 
tell  you,  Lecount,  I  am  my  father's  son !" 

Mrs.  Lecount  bowed  submissively. 

"  I  mean  to  set  down  any  sum  of  money  I  think  right,"  pursued 
Noel  Vanstone,  nodding  his  little  flaxen  head  vehemently.  "  I  mean 
to  send  this  advertisement  myself.  The  servant  shall  take  it  to  the 
stationer's  to  be  put  into  the  Times.  When  I  ring  the  bell  twice, 
send  the  servant.     You  understand,  Lecount  ?     Send  the  servant." 

Mrs.  Lecount  bowed  again,  and  walked  slowly  to  the  door.  She 
knew  to  a  nicety  when  to  lead  her  master  and  when  to  let  him  go 
alone.  Experience  had  taught  her  to  govern  him  in  all  essential 
points  by  giving  way  to  him  afterward  on  all  points  of  minor  de- 
tail. It  was  a  characteristic  of  his  weak  nature — as  it  is  of  all  weak 
natures — to  assert  itself  obstinately  on  trifles.  The  filling  in  of  the 
blank  in  the  advertisement  was  the  trifle  in  this  case ;  and  Mrs.  Le- 
count quieted  her  master's  suspicions  that  she  was  leading  him, 
by  instantly  conceding  it.  "  My  mule  has  kicked,"  she  thought  to 
herself,  in  her  own  language,  as  she  opened  the  door.  "  I  can  do 
no  more  with  him  to-day." 

"  Lecount !"  cried  her  master,  as  she  stepped  into  the  passage. 
"  Come  back." 

Mrs.  Lecount  came  back. 

"  You're  not  offended  with  me,  are  you  ?"  asked  Noel  Vanstone, 
uneasily. 

"  Certainly  not,  sir,"  replied  Mrs.  Lecount.  "  As  you  said  just 
now — you  are  master." 

"  Good  creature  !  Give  me  your  hand."  He  kissed  her  hand,  and 
smiled  in  high  approval  of  his  own  affectionate  proceeding.  "  Le- 
count, you  are  a  worthy  creature  !" 

"  Thank  you,  sir,"  said  Mrs.  Lecount.  She  courtesied  and  went 
out.  "  If  he  had  any  brains  in  that  monkey  head  of  his,"  she  said 
to  herself  in  the  passage,  "  what  a  rascal  he  would  be  !" 

Left  by  himself,  Noel  Vanstone  became  absorbed  in  anxious  re- 
flection over  the  blank  space  in  the  advertisement.  Mrs.  Lecount's 
apparently  superfluous  hint  to  him  to  be  liberal  in  offering  money 


No    NAME.  '2bk,i 

when  he  knew  he  hud  no  intention  of  parting  with  it,  had  been 
founded  on  an  intimate  knowledge  of  his  character,  lie  had  in 
herited  his  father's  sordid  love  of  money,  without  inheriting  his 
father's  hard  headed  capacity  for  seeing  the  uses  to  which  money 
can  be  put.  His  one  idea  in  connection  with  his  wealth  was  the 
idea  of  keeping  it.  He  was  such  an  inborn  miser  that  the  bare 
prospect  of  being  liberal  in  theory  only  daunted  him.  He  took  up 
the  pen ;  laid  it  down  again  ;  and  read  the  anonymous  letter  for  the 
third  time,  shaking  his  head  over  it  suspiciously.  "If  I  oiler  this 
man  a  large  sum  of  money,"  he  thought,  on  a  sudden,  "  how  do  I 
know  he  may  not  find  a  means  of  actually  making  me  pay  it  ? 
Women  are  always  in  a  hurry.  Lecount  is  always  in  a  hurry.  I 
have  got  the  afternoon  before  me  —  I'll  take  the  afternoon  to  con- 
sider it." 

He  fretfully  put  away  the  blotting-book,  and  the  sketch  of  the 
advertisement,  on  the  chair  which  Mrs.  Lecount  had  just  left.  As 
he  returned  to  his  own  seat,  he  shook  his  little  head  solemnly,  and 
arranged  his  white  dressing-gown  over  his  knees  with  the  air  of  a 
man  absorbed  in  anxious  thought.  Minute  after  minute  passed 
away ;  the  quarters  and  the  half-hours  succeeded  each  other  on  the 
dial  of  Mrs.  Lecount's  watch,  and  still  Noel  Vanstone  remained  lost 
in  doubt ;  still  no  summons  for  the  servants  disturbed  the  tranquil- 
lity of  the  parlor  bell. 

******* 

Meanwhile,  after  parting  with  Mrs.  Lecount,  Magdalen  had  cau- 
tiously abstained  from  crossing  the  road  to  her  lodgings,  and  had 
only  ventured  to  return  after  making  a  circuit  in  the  neighborhood. 
When  she  found  herself  once  more  in  Vauxhall  Walk,  the  first  ob- 
ject which  attracted  her  attention  was  a  cab  drawn  up  before  the 
door  of  the  lodgings.  A  few  steps  more  in  advance  showed  her  the 
landlady's  daughter  standing  at  the  cab  door  engaged  in  a  dispute 
with  the  driver  on  the  subject  of  his  fare.  Noticing  that  the  girl's 
back  was  turned  toward  her,  Magdalen  instantly  profited  by  that 
circumstance,  and  slipped  unobserved  into  the  house. 

She  glided  along  the  passage,  ascended  the  stairs,  and  found  her- 
self, on  the  first  landing,  face  to  face  with  her  traveling-companion  ! 
There  stood  Mrs.  Wragge,  with  a  pile  of  small  parcels  hugged  up  in 
her  arms,  anxiously  waiting  the  issue  of  the  dispute  with  the  cab- 
man in  the  street.  To  return  was  impossible  —  the  sound  of  the 
angry  voices  below  was  advancing  into  the  passage.  To  hesitate 
was  worse  than  useless.  But  one  choice  was  left  —  the  choice  of 
going  on — and  Magdalen  desperately  took  it.  She  pushed  by  Mrs. 
Wragge  without  a  word,  ran  into  her  own  room,  tore  off  her  cloak, 
bonnet,  and  wig,  and  threw  them  down  out  of  sight  in  the  blank 
space  between  the  sofa-bedstead  and  the  wall. 


254  NO    NAME. 

For  the  first  few  moments,  astonishment  bereft  Mrs.  Wragge  of 
the  power  of  speech,  and  rooted  her  to  the  spot  where  she  stood. 
Two  out  of  the  collection  of  parcels  in  her  arms  fell  from  them  on 
the  stairs.  The  sight  of  that  catastrophe  roused  her.  "  Thieves !" 
cried  Mrs.  Wragge,  suddenly  struck  by  an  idea.     "  Thieves !" 

Magdalen  heard  her  through  the  room  door,  which  she  had  not 
had  time  to  close  completely.  "  Is  that  you,  Mrs.  Wragge  ?"  she 
called  out  in  her  own  voice.  "  What  is  the  matter  ?"  She  snatched 
jp  a  towel  while  she  spoke,  dipped  it  in  water,  and  passed  it  rapidly 
over  the  lower  part  of  her  face.  At  the  sound  of  the  familiar  voice 
Mrs.  Wragge  turned  round  —  dropped  a  third  parcel — and,  forget- 
ting it  in  her  astonishment,  ascended  the  second  flight  of  stairs. 
Magdalen  stepped  out  on  the  first-floor  landing,  with  the  towel  held 
over  her  forehead  as  if  she  was  suffering  from  headache.  Her  false 
eyebrows  required  time  for  their  removal,  and  a  headache  assumed 
for  the  occasion  suggested  the  most  convenient  pretext  she  could 
devise  for  hiding  them  as  they  were  hidden  now. 

"  What  are  you  disturbing  the  house  for  ?"  she  asked.  "  Pray  be 
quiet ;  I  am  half  blind  with  the  headache." 

"Any  thing  wrong,  ma'am?"  inquired  the  landlady  from  the 
passage. 

"  Nothing  whatever,"  replied  Magdalen.  "  My  friend  is  timid ; 
and  the  dispute  with  the  cabman  has  frightened  her.  Pay  the  man 
what  he  wants,  and  let  him  go." 

"  Where  is  She  ?"  asked  Mrs.  Wragge,  in  a  tremulous  whisper. 
"  Where's  the  woman  who  scuttled  by  me  into  your  room  ?" 

"Pooh!"  said  Magdalen.  "No  woman  scuttled  by  you — as  you 
call  it.     Look  in  and  see  for  yourself." 

She  threw  open  the  door.  Mrs.  Wragge  walked  into  the  room — 
looked  all  over  it — saw  nobody — and  indicated  her  astonishment 
at  the  result  by  dropping  a  fourth  parcel,  and  trembling  helplessly 
from  head  to  foot. 

"  I  saw  her  go  in  here,"  said  Mrs.  Wragge,  in  awe-struck  accents. 
"A  woman  in  a  gray  cloak  and  a  poke  bonnet.  A  rude  woman. 
She  scuttled  by  me  on  the  stairs — she  did.  Here's  the  room,  and 
no  woman  in  it.  Give  us  a  Prayer-book  !"  cried  Mrs.  Wragge,  turn- 
ing deadly  pale,  and  letting  her  whole  remaining  collection  of  par- 
cels fall  about  her  in  a  little  cascade  of  commodities.  "  I  want  to 
read  something  Good.  I  want  to  think  of  my  latter  end.  I've 
seen  a  Ghost !" 

"  Nonsense !"  said  Magdalen.  "  You're  dreaming ;  the  shopping 
has  been  too  much  for  you.  Go  into  your  own  room  and  take  your 
bonnet  off." 

"  I've  heard  tell  of  ghosts  in  night-gowns,  ghosts  in  sheets,  and 
ghosts  in  chains,"  proceeded  Mrs.  Wragge,  standing  petrified  in 


NO   NAME.  255 

her  own  magic  circle  of  linen-drapers'  parcels.  "  Here's  a  worse 
ghost  than  any  of  'em — a  ghost  in  a  gray  cloak  and  a  poke  bonnet. 
I  know  what  it  is,"  continued  Mrs.  Wragge,  melting  into  penitent 
tears.  "It's  a  judgment  on  me  for  being  so  happy  away  from  the 
captain.  It's  a  judgment  on  me  for  having  been  down  at  heel  in 
half  the  shops  in  London,  first  with  one  shoe  and  then  with  the  oth- 
er, all  the  time  I've  been  out.  I'm  a  sinful  creature.  Don't  let  go 
of  me — whatever  you  do,  my  dear,  don't  let  go  of  me  !"  She  caught 
Magdalen  fast  by  the  arm,  and  fell  into  another  trembling  fit  at  the 
bare  idea  of  being  left  by  herself. 

The  one  remaining  chance  in  such  an  emergency  as  this  was  to 
submit  to  circumstances.  Magdalen  took  Mrs.  Wragge  to  a  chair; 
having  first  placed  it  in  such  a  position  as  might  enable  her  to  turn 
her  back  on  her  traveling-companion,  while  she  removed  the  false 
eyebrows  by  the  help  of  a  little  water.  "  Wait  a  minute  there,"  she 
said,  "  and  try  if  you  can  compose  yourself  while  I  bathe  my  head." 

"  Compose  myself?"  repeated  Mrs.  Wragge.  "  How  am  I  to  com- 
pose myself  when  my  head  feels  off  my  shoulders?  The  worst 
Buzzing  I  ever  had  with  the  Cookery-book  was  nothing  to  the 
Buzzing  I've  got  now  with  the  Ghost.  Here's  a  miserable  end  to  a 
holiday !  You  may  take  me  back  again,  my  dear,  whenever  you 
like — I've  had  enough  of  it  already !" 

Having  at  last  succeeded  in  removing  the  eyebrows,  Magdalen 
was  free  to  combat  the  unfortunate  impression  produced  on  her 
companion's  mind  by  every  weapon  of  persuasion  which  her  inge- 
nuity could  employ. 

The  attempt  proved  useless.  Mrs.  Wragge  persisted  —  on  evi- 
dence which,  it  may  be  remarked  in  parenthesis,  would  have  satis- 
fied many  wiser  ghost-seers  than  herself— in  believing  that  she  had 
been  supernaturally  favored  by  a  visitor  from  the  world  of  spirits. 
All  that  Magdalen  could  do  was  to  ascertain,  by  cautious  investiga- 
tion, that  Mrs.  Wragge  had  not  been  quick  enough  to  identify  the 
supposed  ghost  with  the  character  of  the  old  North-country  lady  in 
the  Entertainment.  Having  satisfied  herself  on  this  point,  she  had 
no  resource  but  to  leave  the  rest  to  the  natural  incapability  of  re- 
taining impressions — unless  those  impressions  were  perpetually  re- 
newed—which was  one  of  the  characteristic  infirmities  of  her  com- 
panion's weak  mind.  After  fortifying  Mrs.  Wragge  by  reiterated 
assurances  that  one  appearance  (according  to  all  the  laws  and  regu- 
lations of  ghosts)  meant  nothing  unless  it  was  immediately  followed 
by  two  more — after  patiently  leading  back  her  attention  to  the  par- 
cels dropped  on  the  floor  and  on  the  stairs — and  after  promising  to 
keep  the  door  of  communication  ajar  between  the  two  rooms  if  Mrs. 
Wragge  would  engage  on  her  side  to  retire  to  her  own  chamber, 
and  to  say  no  more  on  the  terrible  subject  of  the  ghost — Magdalen 


256  NO    NAME. 

at  last  secured  the  privilege  of  reflecting  uninterruptedly  on  the 
events  of  that  memorable  day. 

Two  serious  consequences  had  followed  her  first  step  forward. 
Mrs.  Lecount  had  entrapped  her  into  speaking  in  her  own  voice, 
and  accident  had  confronted  her  with  Mrs.  Wragge  in  disguise. 

What  advantage  had  she  gained  to  set  against  these  disasters  ? 
The  advantage  of  knowing  more  of  Noel  Vanstone  and  of  Mrs.  Le- 
count than  she  might  have  discovered  in  months  if  she  had  trusted 
to  inquiries  made  for  her  by  others.  One  uncertainty  which  had 
hitherto  perplexed  her  was  set  at  rest  already.  The  scheme  she 
had  privately  devised  against  Michael  Vanstone  —  which  Captain 
Wragge's  sharp  insight  had  partially  penetrated  when  she  first 
warned  him  that  their  partnership  must  be  dissolved  —  was  a 
scheme  which  she  could  now  plainly  see  must  be  abandoned  as 
hopeless,  in  the  case  of  Michael  Vanstone's  son.  The  father's  hab- 
its of  speculation  had  been  the  pivot  on  which  the  whole  machinery 
of  her  meditated  conspiracy  had  been  constructed  to  turn.  No  such 
vantage-ground  was  discoverable  in  the  doubly  sordid  character  of 
the  son.  Noel  Vanstone  was  invulnerable  on  the  very  point  which 
had  presented  itself  in  his  father  as  open  to  attack. 

Having  reached  this  conclusion,  how  was  she  to  shape  her  future 
course  ?  What  new  means  could  she  discover  which  would  lead 
her  secretly  to  her  end,  in  defiance  of  Mrs.  Lecount's  malicious  vig- 
ilance, and  Noel  Vanstone's  miserly  distrust  ? 

She  was  seated  before  the  looking-glass,  mechanically  combing 
out  her  hair,  while  that  all-important  consideration  occupied  her 
mind.  The  agitation  of  the  moment  had  raised  a  feverish  color  in 
her  cheeks,  and  had  brightened  the  light  in  her  large  gray  eyes. 
She  was  conscious  of  looking  her  best ;  conscious  how  her  beauty 
gained  by  contrast,  after  the  removal  of  the  disguise.  Her  lovely 
light  brown  hair  looked  thicker  and  softer  than  ever,  now  that  it 
had  escaped  from  its  imprisonment  under  the  gray  wig.  She  twist- 
ed it  this  way  and  that,  with  quick,  dexterous  fingers ;  she  laid  it 
in  masses  on  her  shoulders ;  she  threw  it  back  froin  them  in  a  heap, 
and  turned  sideways  to  see  how  it  fell — to  see  her  back  and  shoul- 
ders freed  from  the  artificial  deformities  of  the  padded  cloak.  Af- 
ter a  moment  she  faced  the  lookiug-giass  once  more ;  plunged  both 
hands  deep  in  her  hair;  and,  resting  her  elbows  on  the  table,  looked 
closer  and  closer  at  the  reflection  of  herself,  until  her  brsath  began 
to  dim  the  glass.  " "  I  can  twist  any  man  alive  round  my  finger," 
she  thought,  with  a  smile  of  superb  triumph,  "  as  long  as  I  keep  my 
looks!  If  that  contemptible  wretch  saw  me  now — "  She  shrank 
from  following  that  thought  to  its  end,  with  a  sudden  horror  of  her- 
self :  she  drew  back  from  the  glass,  shuddering,  and  put  her  hands 
over  her  face.     "  Oh,  Frank  !"  she  murmured,  "  but  for  you,  what  a 


NO    NAME.  257 

retch  I  might  be !"  Her  eager  fingers  snatched  the  little  white 
ilk  bag  from  its  hiding-place  in  her  bosom;  her  lips  devoured  it 
with  silent  kisses.  "My  darling!  my  angel!  Oh,  Frank,  how  I 
love  you!"  The  tears  gushed  into  her  eyes.  She  passionately 
dried  them,  restored  the  bag  to  its  place,  and  turned  her  back  on 
the  looking-glass.  "No  more  of  myself,"  she  thought;  "no  more 
of  my  mad,  miserable  self  for  to-day  !" 

Shrinking  from  all  further  contemplation  of  her  next  step  in  ad- 
vance— shrinking  from  the  fast-darkening  future,  with  which  Noel 
Vanstone  was  now  associated  in  her  inmost  thoughts — she  looked 
impatiently  about  the  room  for  some  homely  occupation  which 
might  take  her  out  of  herself.  The  disguise  which  she  had  flung 
down  between  the  wall  and  the  bed  recurred  to  her  memory.  It 
was  impossible  to  leave  it  there.  Mrs.  Wragge  (now  occupied  in 
sorting  her  parcels)  might  weary  of  her  employment,  might  come  in 
again  at  a  moment's  notice,  might  pass  near  the  bed,  and  see  the 
gray  cloak.     What  was  to  be  done  ? 

Her  first  thought  was  to  put  the  disguise  back  in  her  trunk. 
But  after  what  had  happened,  there  was  danger  in  trusting  it  so 
near  to  herself  while  she  and  Mrs.  Wragge  were  together  under  the 
same  roof.  She  resolved  to  be  rid  of  it  that  evening,  and  boldly 
determined  on  sending  it  back  to  Birmingham.  Her  bonnet-box 
fitted  into  her  trunk.  She  took  the  box  out,  thrust  in  the  wig  and 
cloak,  and  remorselessly  flattened  down  the  bonnet  at  the  top.  The 
gown  (which  she  had  not  yet  taken  off)  was  her  own ;  Mrs.  Wragge 
had  been  accustomed  to  see  her  in  it — there  was  no  need  to  send 
the  gown  back.  Before  closing  the  box,  she  hastily  traced  these 
lines  on  a  sheet  of  paper :  "  I  took  the  inclosed  things  away  by  mis- 
take. Please  keep  them  for  me,  with  the  rest  of  my  luggage  in  your 
possession,  until  you  hear  from  me  again."  Putting  the  paper  on 
the  top  of  the  bonnet,  she  directed  the  box  to  Captain  Wragge  at 
Birmingham,  took  it  down  stairs  immediately,  and  sent  the  land- 
lady's daughter  away  with  it  to  the  nearest  Receiving  -  house. 
"  That  difficulty  is  disposed  of,"  she  thought,  as  she  went  back  to 
her  own  room  again. 

Mrs.  Wragge  was  still  occupied  in  sorting  her  parcels  on  her  nar- 
row little  bed.  She  turned  round  with  a  faint  scream  when  Mag- 
dalen looked  in  at  her.  "  I  thought  it  was  the  ghost  again,"  said 
Mrs.  Wragge.  "  I'm  trying  to  take  warning,  my  dear,  by  what's 
happened  to  me.  I've  put  all  my  parcels  straight,  just  as  the  cap- 
tain would  Uke  to  see  'em.  I'm  up  at  heel  with  both  shoes.  If  I 
close  my  eyes  to-night — which  I  don't  think  I  shall — I'll  go  to  sleep 
as  straight  as  my  legs  will  let  me.  And  I'll  never  have  another  holi- 
day as  long  as  I  live.  I  hope  I  shall  be  forgiven,"  said  Mrs.  Wragge, 
mournfully  shaking  her  head.     "  I  humbly  hope  I  shall  be  forgiven." 


258  NO    NAME. 

"  Forgiven  !"  repeated  Magdalen.  "  If  other  women  wanted  as 
little  forgiving  as  you  do —  Well !  well !  Suppose  you  open  some 
of  these  parcels.  Come  !  I  want  to  see  what  you  have  been  buying 
to-day." 

Mrs.  Wragge  hesitated,  sighed  penitently,  considered  a  little, 
stretched  out  her  hand  timidly  toward  one  of  the  parcels,  thought 
of  the  supernatural  warning,  and  shrank  back  from  her  own  pur- 
chases with  a  desperate  exertion  of  self-control. 

"  Open  this  one,"  said  Magdalen,  to  encourage  her:  "  what  is  it  ?" 

Mrs.  Wragge's  faded  blue  eyes  began  to  brighten  dimly,  in  spite 
of  her  remorse;  but  she  self-denyingly  shook  her  head.  The  mas- 
ter-passion of  shopping  might  claim  his  own  again — but  the  ghost 
was  not  laid  yet. 

"  Did  you  get  it  a  bargain  ?"  asked  Magdalen,  confidentially. 

"  Dirt  cheap  !"  cried  poor  Mrs.  Wragge,  falling  headlong  into  the 
snare,  and  darting  at  the  parcel  as  eagerly  as  if  nothing  had  hap- 
pened. 

Magdalen  kept  her  gossiping  over  her  purchases  for  an  hour  or 
more,  and  then  wisely  determined  to  distract  her  attention  from  all 
ghostly  recollections  in  another  way  by  taking  her  out  for  a  walk. 

As  they  left  the  lodgings,  the  door  of  Noel  Vanstone's  house 
opened,  and  the  woman-servant  appeared,  bent  on  another  errand. 
She  was  apparently  charged  with  a  letter  on  this  occasion,  which 
she  carried  carefully  in  her  hand.  Conscious  of  having  formed  no 
plan  yet  either  for  attack  or  defense,  Magdalen  wondered,  with  a 
momentary  dread,  whether  Mrs.  Lecount  had  decided  already  on 
opening  fresh  communications,  and  whether  the  letter  was  directed 
to  "  Miss  Garth." 

The  letter  bore  no  such  address.  Noel  Vanstone  had  solved  his 
pecuniary  problem  at  last.  The  blank  space  in  the  advertisement 
was  filled  up,  and  Mrs.  LecoumVs  acknowledgment  of  the  captain's 
anonymous  warning  was  now  on  its  way  to  insertion  in  the  Times. 

THE  END  OF  THE  THIRD  SCENE. 


NO   NAME.  25 if 


BETWEEN  THE  SCENES. 

PROGRESS  OF  THE  STORY  THROUGH  THE  POST. 


I. 

Extract  from  the  Advertising  Columns  of  "The  Times.'" 
"An  Unknown  Friend  is  requested  to  mention  (by  advertise- 
ment) an  address  at  which  a  letter  can  reach  him.     The  receipt  of 
the  information  which  he  offers  will  be  acknowledged  by  a  reward 
of  Five  Pounds." 

II. 

From  Captain  Wragge  to  Magdalen. 

"  Birmingham,  July  2d,  1847. 

"  My  dear  Girl, — The  box  containing  the  articles  of  costumes 
which  you  took  away  by  mistake  has  come  safely  to  hand.  Consid- 
er it  under  my  special  protection  until  I  hear  from  you  again. 

"  I  embrace  this  opportunity  to  assure  you  once  more  of  my  un- 
alterable fidelity  to  your  interests.  Without  attempting  to  intrude 
myself  into  your  confidence,  may  I  inquire  whether  Mr.  Noel  Van- 
stone  has  consented  to  do  you  justice  ?  I  greatly  fear  he  has  de- 
clined— in  which  case  I  can  lay  my  hand  on  my  heart,  and  solemnly 
declare  that  his  meanness  revolts  me.  "Why  do  I  feel  a  foreboding 
that  you  have  appealed  to  him  in  vain  ?  Why  do  I  find  myself  view- 
ing this  fellow  in  the  Ught  of  a  noxious  insect  ?  We  are  total  stran- 
gers to  each  other ;  I  have  no  sort  of  knowledge  of  him,  except  the 
knowledge  I  picked  up  in  making  your  inquiries.  Has  my  intense 
sympathy  with  your  interests  made  my  perceptions  prophetic  ?  or,  to 
put  it  fancifully,  is  there  really  such  a  thing  as  a  former  state  of  ex- 
istence ?  and  has  Mr.  Noel  Vanstone  mortally  insulted  me — say,  in 
some  other  planet  ? 

"  I  write,  my  dear  Magdalen,  as  you  see,  with  my  customary  dash 
of  humor.  But  I  am  serious  in  placing  my  services  at  your  disposal. 
Don't  let  the  question  of  terms  cause  you  an  instant's  hesitation.  I 
accept  beforehand  any  terms  you  like  to  mention.  If  your  present 
plans  point  that  way,  I  am  ready  to  squeeze  Mr.  Noel  Vanstone,  in 
your  interests,  till  the  gold  oozes  out  of  him  at  every  pore.  Pardon 
the  coarseness  of  this  metaphor.  My  anxiety  to  be  of  service  to  you 
rushes  into  words ;  lays  my  meaning,  in  the  rough,  at  your  feet;  and 


260  NO    NAME. 

leaves  your  taste  to  polish  it  with  the  choicest  ornaments  of  the  En 
glish  language. 

"  How  is  my  unfortunate  wife  ?  I  am  afraid  you  find  it  quite  im- 
possible to  keep  her  up  at  heel,  or  to  mold  her  personal  appearance 
into  harmony  with  the  eternal  laws  of  symmetry  and  order.  Does 
she  attempt  to  be  too  familiar  with  you?  I  have  always  been  ac- 
customed to  check  her,  in  this  respect.  She  has  never  been  permit- 
ted to  call  me  any  thing  but  Captain ;  and  on  the  rare  occasions 
since  our  union,  when  circumstances  may  have  obliged  her  to  ad- 
dress me  by  letter,  her  opening  form  of  salutation  has  been  rigidly 
restricted  to  '  Dear  Sir.'  Accept  these  trifling  domestic  particulars 
as  suggesting  hints  which  may  be  useful  to  you  in  managing  Mrs. 
Wragge ;  and  believe  me,  in  anxious  expectation  of  hearing  from 
you  again,  Devotedly  yours, 

"  Hoeatio  Wragge." 

in. 

From  Norah  to  Magdalen. 

[Forwarded,  with  the  Two  Letters  that  follow  it,  from  the  Post-office,  Bir- 
mingham.] 

"  Westmoreland  House,  Kensington,  July  1st 

•'  My  dearest  Magdalen, — When  you  write  next  (and  pray  write 
soon !)  address  your  letter  to  me  at  Miss  Garth's.  I  have  left  my 
situation ;  and  some  little  time  may  elapse  before  I  find  another. 

"  Now  it  is  all  over,  I  may  acknowledge  to  you,  my  darling,  that  I 
was  not  happy.  I  tried  hard  to  win  the  affection  of  the  two  little 
girls  I  had  to  teach ;  but  they  seemed,  I  am  sure  I  can't  tell  why,  to 
dislike  me  from  the  first.  Their  mother  I  have  no  reason  to  com- 
plain of.  But  their  grandmother,  who  was  really  the  ruling  power 
in  the  house,  made  my  life  very  hard  to  me.  My  inexperience  in 
teaching  was  a  constant  subject  of  remark  with  her ;  and  my  diffi- 
culties with  the  children  were  always  visited  on  me  as  if  they  had 
been  entirely  of  my  own  making.  I  tell  you  this,  so  that  you  may 
not  suppose  I  regret  having  left  my  situation.  Far  from  it,  my  love 
— I  am  glad  to  be  out  of  the  house. 

"  I  have  saved  a  little  money,  Magdalen ;  and  I  should  so  like  to 
spend  it  in  staying  a  few  days  with  you.  My  heart  aches  for  a  sight 
of  my  sister ;  my  ears  are  weary  for  the  sound  of  her  voice.  A  word 
from  you,  telling  me  where  we  can  meet,  is  all  I  want.  Think  of  it 
— pray  think  of  it. 

"  Don't  suppose  I  am  discouraged  by  this  first  check.  There  are 
many  kind  people  in  the  world ;  and  some  of  them  may  employ  me 
next  time.  The  way  to  happiness  is  often  very  hard  to  find ;  hard- 
er, I  almost  think,  for  women  than  for  men.  But  if  we  only  try  pa- 
tiently, and  try  long  enough,  we  reach  it  at  last — in  Heaven,  if  not 


NO   NAME.  2G1 

on  earth.     I  think  my  way  now  is  the  way  which  leads  to  seeing 
you  again.     Don't  forget  that,  my  love,  the  next  time  you  think  of 

"NbBAH." 

IV. 

From  Miss  Garth  to  Magdalen. 

"  Westmoreland  House,  July  1st. 

"My  dear  Magdalen, — You  have  no  useless  remonstrances  to 
apprehend  at  the  sight  of  my  handwriting.  My  only  object  in  this 
letter  is  to  tell  you  something  which  I  know  your  sister  will  not  tell 
you  of  her  own  accord.  She  is  entirely  ignorant  that  I  am  writing 
to  you.  Keep  her  in  ignorance,  if  you  wish  to  spare  her  unnecessary 
anxiety,  and  me  unnecessary  distress. 

"  Norah's  letter,  no  doubt,  tells  you  that  she  has  left  her  situation. 
I  feel  it  my  painful  duty  to  add  that  she  has  left  it  on  your  account. 

"  The  matter  occurred  in  this  manner.  Messrs.  Wyatt,  Pendril, 
and  Gwilt  are  the  solicitors  of  the  gentleman  in  whose  family  Norah 
was  employed.  The  life  which  you  have  chosen  for  yourself  was 
known  as  long  ago  as  December  last  to  all  the  partners.  You  were 
discovered  performing  in  public  at  Derby  by  the  person  who  had 
been  employed  to  trace  you  at  York ;  and  that  discovery  was  com- 
municated by  Mr.  Wyatt  to  Norah's  employer  a  few  days  since,  in 
reply  to  direct  inquiries  about  you  on  that  gentleman's  part.  His 
wife  and  his  mother  (who  lives  with  him)  had  expressly  desired 
that  he  would  make  those  inquiries;  their  doubts  having  been 
aroused  by  Norah's  evasive  answers  when  they  questioned  her 
about  her  sister.  You  know  Norah  too  well  to  blame  her  for  this. 
Evasion  was  the  only  escape  your  present  life  had  left  her,  from  tell- 
ing a  downright  falsehood. 

"  That  same  day,  the  two  ladies  of  the  family,  the  elder  and  the 
younger,  sent  for  your  sister,  and  told  her  they  had  discovered  that 
you  were  a  public  performer,  roaming  from  place  to  place  in  the 
country  under  an  assumed  name.  They  were  just  enough  not  to 
blame  Norah  for  this ;  they  were  just  enough  to  acknowledge  that 
her  conduct  had  been  as  irreproachable  as  I  had  guaranteed  it 
should  be  when  I  got  her  the  situation.  But,  at  the  same  time, 
they  made  it  a  positive  condition  of  her  continuing  in  their  employ- 
ment that  she  should  never  permit  you  to  visit  her  at  their  house, 
or  to  meet  her  and  walk  out  with  her  when  she  was  in  attendance 
on  the  children.  Your  sister — who  has  patiently  borne  all  hardships 
that  fell  on  herself — instantly  resented  the  slur  cast  on  you.  She 
gave  her  employers  warning  on  the  spot.  High  words  followed, 
and  she  left  the  house  that  evening. 

"  I  have  no  wish  to  distress  you  by  representing  the  loss  of  this 
situation  in  the  light  of  a  disaster.     Norah  was  not  so  happy  in  it 


262  NO    NAME. 

as  I  had  hoped  and  believed  she  would  be.  It  was  impossible  for 
me  to  know  beforehand  that  the  children  were  sullen  and  intract- 
able, or  that  the  husband's  mother  was  accustomed  to  make  her 
domineering  disposition  felt  by  every  one  in  the  house.  I  will 
readily  admit  that  Norah  is  well  out  of  this  situation.  But  the 
harm  does  not  stop  here.  For  all  you  and  I  know  to  the  contrary, 
the  harm  may  go  on.  What  has  happened  in  this  situation  may 
happen  in  another.  Your  way  of  life,  however  pure  your  conduct 
may  be — and  I  will  do  you  the  justice  to  believe  it  pure — is  a  sus- 
picious way  of  life  to  all  respectable  people.  I  have  lived  long 
enough  in  this  world  to  know  that  the  sense  of  Propriety,  in  nine 
Englishwomen  out  of  ten,  makes  no  allowances  and  feels  no  pity. 
Norah's  next  employers  may  discover  you ;  and  Norah  may  throw 
up  a  situation  next  time  which  we  may  never  be  able  to  find  for  her 
again. 

"I  leave  you  to  consider  this.  My  child,  don't  think  I  am  hard 
on  you.  I  am  jealous  for  your  sister's  tranquillity.  If  you  will  for- 
get the  past,  Magdalen,  and  come  back,  trust  to  your  old  governess 
to  forget  it  too,  and  to  give  you  the  home  which  your  father  and 
mother  once  gave  her.     Your  friend,  my  dear,  always, 

"  Harriet  Garth." 

V. 

From  Francis  Clare,  Jun.,  to  Magdclen. 

"Shanghai,  China,  April  23d,  1847. 

"My  dear  Magdalen, — I  have  deferred  answering  your  letter, 
in  consequence  of  the  distracted  state  of  my  mind,  which  made  me 
unfit  to  write  to  you.  I  am  still  unfit,  but  I  feel  I  ought  to  delay  no 
longer.  My  sense  of  honor  fortifies  me,  and  I  undergo  the  pain  of 
writing  this  letter. 

"  My  prospects  in  China  are  all  at  an  end.  The  Firm  to  which  I 
was  brutally  consigned,  as  if  I  was  a  bale  of  merchandise,  has  worn 
out  my  patience  by  a  series  of  petty  insults ;  and  I  have  felt  com- 
pelled, from  motives  of  self-respect,  to  withdraw  my  services,  which 
were  undervalued  from  the  first.  My  returning  to  England  under 
these  circumstances  is  out  of  the  question.  I  have  been  too  cruelly 
used  in  my  own  country  to  wish  to  go  back  to  it,  even  if  I  could. 
I  propose  embarking  on  board  a  piivate  trading-vessel  in  these  seas 
in  a  mercantile  capacity,  to  make  my  way,  if  I  can.  for  myself. 
How  it  will  end,  or  what  will  happen  to  me  next,  is  more  than  I 
can  say.  It  matters  little  what  becomes  of  me.  I  am  a  wanderer 
and  an  exile,  entirely  through  the  fault  of  others.  The  unfeeling 
desire  at  home  to  get  rid  of  me  has  accomplished  its  object.  I  am 
got  rid  of  for  good. 

"  There  is  only  one  more  sacrifice  left  for  me  to  make — the  sacri- 


NO    NAME.  263 

fice  of  my  heart's  dearest  feelings.  With  no  prospects  before  me, 
with  no  chance  of  coining  borne,  what  hope  can  I  feel  of  performing 
my  engagement  to  yourself?  None !  A  more  selfish  man  than  P 
am  might  hold  you  to  that  engagement;  a  less  considerate  man 
than  I  am  might  keep  you  waiting  for  years — and  to  no  purpose 
after  all.  Cruelly  as  they  have  been  trampled  on,  my  feelings  are 
too  sensitive  to  allow  me  to  do  this.  I  write  it  with  the  tears  in 
my  eyes — you  shall  not  link  your  fate  to  an  outcast.  Accept  these 
heart-broken  lines  as  releasing  you  from  your  promise.  Our  en- 
gagement is  at  an  end. 

"  The  one  consolation  which  supports  me  in  bidding  you  farewell 
is,  that  neither  of  us  is  to  blame.  You  may  have  acted  weakly,  un- 
der my  father's  influence,  but  I  am  sure  you  acted  for  the  best.  No- 
body knew  what  the  fatal  consequences  of  driving  me  out  of  En- 
gland would  be  but  myself— and  I  was  not  listened  to.  I  yielded 
to  my  father,  I  yielded  to  you ;  and  this  is  the  end  of  it ! 

"  I  am  suffering  too  acutely  to  write  more.  May  you  njever  know 
what  my  withdrawal  from  our  engagement  has  cost  me  !  I  beg  you 
will  not  blame  yourself.  It  is  not  your  fault  that  I  have  had  all 
my  energies  misdirected  by  others — it  is  not  your  fault  that  I  have 
never  had  a  fair  chance  of  getting  on  in  life.  Forget  the  deserted 
wretch  who  breathes  his  heartfelt  prayers  for  your  happiness,  and 
who  will  ever  remain  your  friend  and  well-wisher. 

"  Francis  Clare,  Jun." 

VI. 

From  Francis  Clare,  Sen.,  to  Magdalen. 
[Inclosing  the  preceding  Letter.  ] 
"  I  always  told  your  poor  father  my  son  was  a  Fool,  but  I  never 
knew  he  was  a  Scoundrel  until  the  mail  came  in  from  China.  I 
have  every  reason  to  believe  that  he  has  left  his  employers  under 
the  most  disgraceful  circumstances.  Forget  him  from  this  time 
forth,  as  I  do.  When  you  and  I  last  set  eyes  on  each  other,  you  be- 
haved well  to  me  in  this  business.  All  I  can  now  say  in  return,  I 
do  say.     My  girl,  I  am  sorry  for  you.  F.  C." 

vn. 

From  Mrs.  Wragge  to  her  Husband. 

"  Dear  sir  for  mercy's  sake  come  here  and  help  us  She  had  a 
dreadful  letter  I  don't  know  what  yesterday  but  she  read  it  in  bed 
and  when  I  went  in  with  her  breakfast  I  found  her  dead  and  if  the 
doctor  had  not  been  two  doors  off  nobody  else  could  have  brought 
her  to  life  again  and  she  sits  and  looks  dreadful  and  won't  speak  a 
word  her  eyes  frighten  me  so  I  shake  from  head  to  foot  oh  please 
do  come  I  keep  things  as  tidy  as  I  can  and  I  do  like  her  so  and  she 


264  NO  NAME. 

used  to  be  so  kind  to  me  and  the  landlord  says  he's  afraid  she'll  de- 
stroy herself  I  wish  I  could  write  straight  but  I  do  shake  so  your 
dutiful  wife  matilda  wragge  excuse  faults  and  beg  you  on  my  knees 
come  and  help  us  the  Doctor  good  man  will  put  some  of  his  own 
writing  into  this  for  fear  you  can't  make  out  mine  and  remain  once 
more  your  dutiful  wife  matilda  wragge." 

Added  by  the  Doctor. 
"  Sir, — I  beg  to  inform  you  that  I  was  yesterday  called  into  a 
neighbor's  in  Vauxhall  Walk  to  attend  a  young  lady  who  had  been 
suddenly  taken  ill.  I  recovered  her  with  great  difficulty  from  one 
of  the  most  obstinate  fainting-fits  I  ever  remember  to  have  met  with. 
Since  that  time  she  has  had  no  relapse,  but  there  is  apparently  some 
heavy  distress  weighing  on  her  mind  which  it  has  hitherto  been 
found  impossible  to  remove.  She  sits,  as  I  am  informed,  perfectly 
silent,  and  perfectly  unconscious  of  what  goes  on  about  her,  for 
hours  together,  with  a  letter  in  her  hand  which  she  will  allow  no- 
body to  take  from  her.  If  this  state  of  depression  continues,  very 
distressing  mental  consequences  may  follow ;  and  I  only  do  my 
duty  in  suggesting  that  some  relative  or  friend  should  interfere  who 
has  influence  enough  to  rouse  her.     Your  obedient  servant, 

"  Richard  Jarvis,  M.R.C.S." 

VIII. 

From  Norah  to  Magdalen. 

"July  6th. 

"  For  God's  sake,  write  me  one  line  to  say  if  you  are  still  at  Bir- 
mingham, and  where  I  can  find  you  there  !  I  have  just  heard  from 
old  Mr.  Clare.  Oh,  Magdalen,  if  you  have  no  pity  on  yourself,  have 
some  pity  on  me !  The  thought  of  you  alone  among  strangers,  the 
thought  of  you  heart-broken  under  this  dreadful  blow,  never  leaves 
me  for  an  instant.  No  words  can  tell  how  I  feel  for  you !  My  own 
love,  remember  the  better  days  at  home  before  that  cowardly  villain 
stole  his  way  into  your  heart ;  remember  the  happy  time  at  Combe- 
Raven  when  we  were  always  together.  Oh,  don't,  don't  treat  me 
like  a  stranger !  We  are  alone  in  the  world  now — let  me  come  and 
comfort  you,  let  me  be  more  than  a  sister  to  you,  if  I  can.  One  line 
— only  one  line  to  tell  me  where  I  can  find  you !" 

IX. 

From  Magdalen  to  Norah. 

"July  7th. 

"My  dearest  Norah, — All  that  your  love  for  me  can  wish  your 

letter  has  done.     You,  and  you  alone,  have  found  your  way  to  my 

heart.     I  could  think  again,  I  could  feel  again,  after  reading  what 


NO    NAME.  205 

you  have  written  to  me.  Let  this  assurance  quiet  your  anxieties. 
My  mind  lives  and  breathes  once  more — it  was  dead  until  I  got 
your  letter. 

"The  shock  I  have  suffered  has  left  a  strange  quietness  in  me.  I 
feel  as  if  I  had  parted  from  my  former  self— as  if  the  hopes  once  so 
dear  to  me  had  all  gone  back  to  some  past  time  from  which  I  am 
now  far  removed.  I  can  look  at  the  wreck  of  my  life  more  calmly, 
Norah,  than  you  could  look  at  it  if  we  were  both  together  again. 
I  can  trust  myself  already  to  write  to  Frank. 

"  My  darling,  I  think  no  woman  ever  knows  how  utterly  she  has 
given  herself  up  to  the  man  she  loves — until  that  man  has  ill-treat- 
ed her.  Can  you  pity  my  weakness  if  I  confess  to  having  felt  a 
pang  at  my  heart  when  I  read  that  part  of  your  letter  which  calls 
Frank  a  coward  and  a  villain  ?  Nobody  can  despise  me  for  this  as 
I  despise  myself.  I  am  like  a  dog  who  crawls  back  and  licks  the 
master's  hand  that  has  beaten  him.  But  it  is  so — I  would  confess 
it  to  nobody  but  you — indeed,  indeed  it  is  so.  He  has  deceived 
and  deserted  me;  he  has  written  me  a  cruel  farewell — but  don't 
call  1dm  a  villain !  If  he  repented  and  came  back  to  me,  I  would 
die  rather  than  marry  him  now — but  it  grates  on  me  to  see  that 
word  coward  written  against  him  in  your  hand !  If  he  is  weak  of 
purpose,  who  tried  his  weakness  beyond  what  it  could  bear?  Do 
you  think  this  would  have  happened  if  Michael  Vanstone  had  not 
robbed  us  of  our  own,  and  forced  Frank  away  from  me  to  China  ? 
In  a  week  from  to-day  the  year  of  waiting  would  have  come  to  an 
end,  and  I  should  have  been  Frank's  wife,  if  my  marriage  portion 
had  not  been  taken  from  me. 

"  You  will  say,  after  what  has  happened,  it  is  well  that  I  have 
escaped.  My  love !  there  is  something  perverse  in  my  heart,  which 
answers,  No !  Better  have  been  Frank's  wretched  wife  than  the 
free  woman  I  am  now. 

"  I  have  not  written  to  him.  He  sends  me  no  address  at  which  I 
could  write,  even  if  I  would.  But  I  have  not  the  wish.  I  will  wait 
before  I  send  him  my  farewell.  If  a  day  ever  comes  when  I  have 
the  fortune  which  my  father  once  promised  I  should  bring  to  him, 
do  you  knowT  what  I  would  do  with  it?  I  would  send  it  all  to 
Frank,  as  my  revenge  on  him  for  his  letter;  as  the  last  farewell 
word  on  my  side  to  the  man  who  has  deserted  me.  Let  me  live 
for  that  day !  Let  me  live,  Norah,  in  the  hope  of  better  times  for 
you,  which  is  all  the  hope  I  have  left.  When  I  think  of  your  hard 
life,  I  can  almost  feel  the  tears  once  more  in  my  weary  eyes.  I  can 
almost  think  I  have  come  back  again  to  my  former  self. 

"  You  will  not  think  me  hard-hearted  and  ungrateful  if  I  say  that 
we  must  wait  a  little  yet  before  we  meet  ?  I  want  to  be  more  fit  to 
6ee  you  than  I  am  now.     I  want  to  put  Frank  farther  away  from 


266  NO   NAME. 

me,  and  to  bring  you  nearer  still.  Are  these  good  reasons  ?  I  don't 
know — don't  ask  me  for  reasons.  Take  the  kiss  I  have  put  for  you 
here,  where  the  little  circle  is  drawn  on  the  paper;  and  let  that 
bring  us  together  for  the  present  till  I  write  again.  Good-bye,  my 
love.     My  heart  is  true  to  you,  Norah,  but  I  dare  not  see  you  yet. 

"  Magdalen." 


From  Magdalen,  to  Miss  Garth. 

"My  dear  Miss  Garth, — I  have  been  long  in  answering  your 
letter ;  but  you  know  what  has  happened,  and  you  will  forgive  me. 

"  All  that  I  have  to  say  may  be  said  in  few  words.  You  may  de- 
pend on  my  never  making  the  general  Sense  of  Propriety  my  enemy 
again  :  I  am  getting  knowledge  enough  of  the  world  to  make  it 
my  accomplice  next  time.  Norah  will  never  leave  another  situation 
on  my  account — my  life  as  a  public  performer  is  at  an  end.  It  was 
harmless  enough,  God  knows — I  may  live,  and  so  may  you,  to  mourn 
the  day  when  I  parted  from  it — but  I  shall  never  return  to  it  again. 
It  has  left  me,  as  Frank  has  left  me,  as  all  my  better  thoughts  have 
left  me — except  my  thoughts  of  Norah. 

"  Enough  of  myself !  Shall  I  tell  you  some  news  to  brighten  this 
dull  letter  ?  Mr.  Michael  Vanstone  is  dead,  and  Mr.  Noel  Vanstone 
has  succeeded  to  the  possession  of  my  fortune  and  Norah's.  He  is 
quite  worthy  of  his  inheritance.  In  his  father's  place,  he  would 
have  ruined  us  as  his  father  did. 

"  I  have  no  more  to  say  that  you  would  care  to  know.  Don't  be 
distressed  about  me.  I  am  trying  to  recover  my  spirits — I  am  try- 
ing to  forget  the  poor  deluded  girl  who  was  foolish  enough  to  be 
fond  of  Frank  in  the  old  days  at  Combe-Raven.  Sometimes  a  pang 
comes  which  tells  me  the  girl  won't  be  forgotten — but  not  often. 

"  It  was  very  kind  of  you,  when  you  wrote  to  such  a  lost  creature 
as  I  am,  to  sign  yourself — always  my  friend.  'Always'  is  a  bold 
word,  my  dear  old  governess !  I  wonder  whether  you  will  ever 
want  to  recall  it  ?  It  will  make  no  difference  if  you  do,  in  the  grati- 
tude I  shall  always  feel  for  the  trouble  you  took  with  me  when  I 
was  a  little  girl.  I  have  ill  repaid  that  trouble — ill  repaid  your 
kindness  to  me  in  after  life.  I  ask  your  pardon  and  your  pity. 
The  best  thing  you  can  do  for  both  of  us  is  to  forget  me.  Affection- 
ately yours,  Magdalen. 

"  P.  S. — I  open  the  envelope  to  add  one  line.  For  God's  sake, 
don't  show  this  letter  to  Norah  1" 


NO   NAME.  '2(57 

XI. 

From  Magdalen  to  Captain   Wragge. 

"Vauxhall  Walk,  July  17th. 

"  If  I  am  not  mistaken,  it  was  arranged  that  I  should  write  to  you 
at  Birmingham  as  soon  as  I  felt  myself  composed  enough  to  think 
of  the  future.  My  mind  is  settled  at  last,  and  I  am  now  able  to  ac- 
cept the  services  which  you  have  unreservedly  offered  to  me. 

"  I  beg  you  will  forgive  the  manner  in  which  I  received  you  on 
your  arrival  in  this  house,  after  hearing  the  news  of  my  sudden  ill- 
ness. I  was  quite  incapable  of  controlling  myself — I  was  suffering 
an  agony  of  mind  which  for  the  time  deprived  me  of  my  senses.  It 
is  only  your  due  that  I  should  now  thank  you  for  treating  me  with 
great  forbearance  at  a  time  when  forbearance  was  mercy. 

"I  will  mention  what  I  wish  you  to  do  as  plainly  and  briefly  as 
I  can. 

"  In  the  first  place,  I  request  you  to  dispose  (as  privately  as  possi- 
ble) of  every  article  of  costume  used  in  the  dramatic  Entertainment. 
I  have  done  with  our  performances  forever ;  and  I  wish  to  be  set 
free  from  every  thing  which  might  accidentally  connect  me  with 
them  in  the  future.     The  key  of  my  box  is  inclosed  in  this  letter. 

"  The  other  box,  which  contains  my  own  dresses,  you  will  be  kind 
enough  to  forward  to  this  house.  I  do  not  ask  you  to  bring  it  your- 
self, because  I  have  a  far  more  important  commission  to  intrust  to 
you. 

"  Referring  to  the  note  which  you  left  for  me  at  your  departure,  I 
conclude  that  you  have  by  this  time  traced  Mr.  Noel  Vanstone  from 
Vauxhall  Walk  to  the  residence  which  he  is  now  occupying.  If  you 
have  made  the  discovery — and  if  you  are  quite  sure  of  not  having 
drawn  the  attention  either  of  Mrs.  Lecount  or  her  master  to  yourself 
— I  wish  you  to  arrange  immediately  for  my  residing  (with  you  and 
Mrs.  Wragge)  in  the  same  town  or  village  in  which  Mr.  Noel  Van- 
stone  has  taken  up  his  abode.  I  write  this,  it  is  hardly  necessary  to 
say,  under  the  impression  that,  wherever  he  may  now  be  living,  he  is 
settled  in  the  place  for  some  little  time. 

"  If  you  can  find  a  small  furnished  house  for  me  on  these  condi- 
tions which  is  to  be  let  by  the  month,  take  it  for  a  month  certain  to 
begin  with.  Say  that  it  is  for  your  wife,  your  niece,  and  yourself, 
and  use  any  assumed  name  you  please,  as  long  as  it  is  a  name  that 
can  be  trusted  to  defeat  the  most  suspicious  inquiries.  I  leave  this 
to  your  experience  in  such  matters.  The  secret  of  who  we  really  are 
must  be  kept  as  strictly  as  if  it  was  a  secret  on  which  our  lives  de- 
pend. 

"Any  expenses  to  which  you  may  be  put  in  carrying  out  my 
wishes  I  will  immediately  repay.    If  you  easily  find  the  sort  of  house 


268  NO    NAME. 

I  want,  there  is  no  need  for  your  returning  to  London  to  fetch  us. 
We  can  join  you  as  soon  as  we  know  where  to  go.  The  house  must 
be  perfectly  respectable,  and  must  be  reasonably  near  to  Mr.  Noel 
Vanstone's  present  residence,  wherever  that  is. 

"  You  must  allow  me  to  be  silent  in  this  letter  as  to  the  object 
which  I  have  now  in  view.  I  am  unwilling  to  risk  an  explanation 
in  writing.  When  all  our  preparations  are  made,  you  shall  hear 
what  I  propose  to  do  from  my  own  lips ;  and  I  shall  expect  you  to 
tell  me  plainly,  in  return,  whether  you  will  or  will  not  give  me  the 
help  I  want  on  the  best  terms  which  I  am  able  to  offer  you. 

a  One  word  more  before  I  seal  up  this  letter. 

"  If  any  opportunity  falls  in  your  way  after  you  have  taken  the 
house,  and  before  we  join  you,  of  exchanging  a  few  civil  words  ei- 
ther with  Mr.  Noel  Vanstone  or  Mrs.  Lecount,  take  advantage  of  it. 
It  is  very  important  to  my  present  object  that  we  should  become  ac- 
quainted with  each  other — as  the  purely  accidental  result  of  our  be- 
ing near  neighbors.  I  want  you  to  smooth  the  way  toward  this  end 
if  you  can,  before  Mrs.  Wragge  and  I  come  to  you.  Pray  throw 
away  no  chance  of  observing  Mrs.  Lecount,  in  particular,  very  care- 
fully. Whatever  help  you  can  give  me  at  the  outset  in  blindfolding 
that  woman's  sharp  eyes  will  be  the  most  precious  help  I  have  ever 
received  at  your  hands. 

"  There  is  no  need  to  answer  this  letter  immediately — unless  I 
have  written  it  under  a  mistaken  impression  of  what  you  have  ac- 
complished since  leaving  London.  I  have  taken  our  lodgings  on 
for  another  week ;  and  I  can  wait  to  hear  from  you  until  you  are 
able  to  send  me  such  news  as  I  wish  to  receive.  You  may  be  quite 
sure  of  my  patience  for  the  future,  under  all  possible  circumstances. 
My  caprices  are  at  an  end,  and  my  violent  temper  has  tried  your  for- 
bearance for  the  last  time.  Magdalen." 

XII. 

From  Captain  Wragge  to  Magdalen. 

"  North  Shingles  Villa,  Aldborough,  Suffolk,  July  22d. 

"My  dear  Girl,  —  Your  letter  has  charmed  and  touched  me. 
Your  excuses  have  gone  straight  to  my  heart ;  and  your  confidence 
in  my  humble  abilities  has  followed  in  the  same  direction.  The 
pulse  of  the  old  militia-man  throbs  with  pride  as  he  thinks  of  the 
trust  you  have  placed  in  him,  and  vows  to  deserve  it.  Don't  be 
surprised  at  this  genial  outburst.  All  enthusiastic  natures  must  ex- 
plode occasionally ;  and  my  form  of  explosion  is — Words. 

"  Every  thing  you  wanted  me  to  do  is  done.  The  house  is  taken ; 
the  name  is  found ;  and  I  am  personally  acquainted  with  Mrs.  Le- 
count.    After  reading  this  general  statement,  you  will  naturally  be 


NO   NAME.  269 

interested  in  possessing  your  mind  next  of  the  accompanying  details. 
Here  they  are,  at  your  service : 

"  The  day  after  leaving  you  in  London,  I  traced  Mr.  Noel  Vanstone 
to  this  curious  little  sea-side  snuggery.  One  of  his  father's  innumer- 
able bargains  was  a  house  at  Aldborough — a  rising  watering-place, 
or  Mr.  Michael  Vanstone  would  not  have  invested  a  farthing  in  it. 
In  this  house  the  despicable  little  miser,  who  lived  rent  free  in  Lon- 
don, now  lives,  rent  free  again,  on  the  coast  of  Suffolk.  He  is  set- 
tled in  his  present  abode  for  the  summer  and  autumn ;  and  you  and 
Mrs.  Wragge  have  only  to  join  me  here,  to  be  established  five  doors 
away  from  him  in  this  elegant  villa.  I  have  got  the  whole  house 
for  three  guineas  a  week,  with  the  option  of  remaining  through  the 
autumn  at  the  same  price.  In  a  fashionable  watering-place,  such  a 
residence  would  have  been  cheap  at  double  the  money. 

"  Our  new  name  has  been  chosen  with  a  wary  eye  to  your  sugges- 
tions. My  books — I  hope  you  have  not  forgotten  my  Books  ? — con- 
tain, under  the  heading  of  Skins  To  Jump  Into,  a  list  of  individuals 
retired  from  this  mortal  scene,  with  whose  names,  families,  and  cir- 
cumstances I  am  well  acquainted.  Into  some  of  those  Skins  I  have 
been  compelled  to  Jump,  in  the  exercise  of  my  profession,  at  former 
periods  of  my  career.  Others  are  still  in  the  condition  of  new 
dresses,  and  remain  to  be  tried  on.  The  Skin  which  will  exactly  fit 
us  originally  clothed  the  bodies  of  a  family  named  Bygrave.  I  am 
in  Mr.  Bygrave's  skin  at  this  moment— and  it  fits  without  a  wrinkle. 
If  you  will  obbge  me  by  slipping  into  Miss  Bygrave  (Christian  name, 
Susan);  and  if  you  will  afterward  push  Mrs.  Wragge  —  anyhow; 
head  foremost  if  you  like  —  into  Mrs.  Bygrave  (Christian  name, 
Julia),  the  transformation  will  be  complete.  Permit  me  to  inform 
you  that  I  am  your  paternal  uncle.  My  worthy  brother  was  estab- 
lished twenty  years  ago  in  the  mahogany  and  logwood  trade  at 
Belize,  Honduras.  He  died  in  that  place;  and  is  buried  on  the 
south-west  side  of  the  local  cemetery,  with  a  neat  monument  of 
native  wood  carved  by  a  self-taught  negro  artist.  Nineteen  months 
afterward  his  widow  died  of  apoplexy  at  a  boarding-house  in  Chel- 
tenham. She  was  supposed  to  be  the  most  corpulent  woman  in 
England,  and  was  accommodated  on  the  ground-floor  of  the  house 
in  consequence  of  the  difficulty  of  getting  her  up  and  down  stairs. 
You  are  her  only  child  ;  you  have  been  under  my  care  since  the  sad 
event  at  Cheltenham;  you  are  twenty-one  years  old  on  the  second 
of  August  next ;  and,  corpulence  excepted,  you  are  the  living  image 
of  your  mother.  I  trouble  you  with  these  specimens  of  my  intimate 
knowledge  of  our  new  family  Skin,  to  quiet  your  mind  on  the  sub- 
ject of  future  inquiries.  Trust  to  me  and  my  books  to  satisfy  any 
amount  of  inquiry.  In  the  mean  time  write  down  our  new  name 
and  address,  and  see  how  they  strike  you :  '  Mr.  Bygrave,  Mrs.  By- 


270  NO   NAME. 

grave,  Miss  Bygrave ;   North  Shingles  Villa,  Aldborough.'     Upon 
my  life,  it  reads  remarkably  well ! 

"  The  last  detail  I  have  to  communicate  refers  to  my  acquaintance 
with  Mrs.  Le  count. 

"  We  met  yesterday,  in  the  grocer's  shop  here.  Keeping  my  ears 
open,  I  found  that  Mrs.  Lecount  wanted  a  particular  kind  of  tea 
which  the  man  had  not  got,  and  which  he  believed  could  not  be 
procured  any  nearer  than  Ipswich.  I  instantly  saw  my  way  to  be- 
ginning an  acquaintance,  at  the  trifling  expense  of  a  journey  to  that 
flourishing  city.  '  I  have  business  to-day  in  Ipswich,'  I  said, '  and  I 
propose  returning  to  Alborough  (if  I  can  get  back  in  time)  this  even- 
ing. Pray  allow  me  to  take  your  order  for  the  tea,  and  to  bring  it 
back  with  my  own  parcels.'  Mrs.  Lecount  politely  declined  giving 
me  the  trouble — I  politely  insisted  on  taking  it.  We  fell  into  con- 
versation. There  is  no  need  to  trouble  you  with  our  talk.  The 
result  of  it  on  my  mind  is — that  Mrs.  Lecount's  one  weak  point,  if 
she  has  such  a  thing  at  all,  is  a  taste  for  science,  implanted  by  her 
deceased  husband,  the  professor.  I  think  I  see  a  chance  here  of 
working  my  way  into  her  good  graces,  and  casting  a  little  needful 
dust  into  those  handsome  black  eyes  of  hers.  Acting  on  this  idea 
when  I  purchased  the  lady's  tea  at  Ipswich,  I  also  bought  on  my 
own  account  that  far-famed  pocket-manual  of  knowledge,  '  Joyce's 
Scientific  Dialogues.'  Possessing,  as  I  do,  a  quick  memory  and 
boundless  confidence  in  myself,  I  propose  privately  inflating  my 
new  skin  with  as  much  ready-made  science  as  it  will  hold,  and 
presenting  Mr.  Bygrave  to  Mrs.  Lecount's  notice  in  the  character 
of  the  most  highly  informed  man  she  has  met  with  since  the  pro- 
fessor's death.  The  necessity  of  blindfolding  that  woman  (to  use 
your  own  admirable  expression)  is  as  clear  to  me  as  to  you.  If  it 
is  to  be  done  in  the  way  I  propose,  make  your  mind  easy — Wragge, 
inflated  by  Joyce,  is  the  man  to  do  it. 

"You  now  have  my  whole  budget  of  news.  Am  I,  or  am  I  not, 
worthy  of  your  confidence  in  me  ?  I  say  nothing  of  my  devouring 
anxiety  to  know  what  your  objects  really  are — that  anxiety  will  be 
satisfied  when  we  meet.  Never  yet,  my  dear  girl,  did  I  long  to  ad- 
minister a  productive  pecuniary  Squeeze  to  any  human  creature,  as 
I  long  to  administer  it  to  Mr.  Noel  Vanstone.  I  say  no  more.  Ver- 
bum  sap.  Pardon  the  pedantry  of  a  Latin  quotation,  and  believe 
me,  Entirely  yours, 

"Horatio  Wragge. 

"  P.S. — I  await  my  instructions,  as  you  requested.  You  have  only 
to  say  whether  I  shall  return  to  London  for  the  purpose  of  escorting 
you  to  this  place,  or  whether  I  shall  wait  here  to  receive  you.  The 
house  is  in  perfect  order,  the  weather  is  charming,  and  the  sea  is  as 
smooth  as  Mrs.  Lecount's  apron.    She  has  just  passed  the  window, 


NO    NAME.  271 

and  we  have  exchanged  bows.  A  sharp  woman,  my  dear  Mag- 
dalen ;  but  Joyce  and  I  together  may  prove  a  trifle  too  much  for 
her." 

xin. 

Extract  from  the  "  East  Suffolk  Argus." 

"  Aldbokough. — We  notice  with  pleasure  the  arrival  of  visitors 
to  this  healthful  and  far-famed  watering-place,  earlier  in  the  season 
than  usual  during  the  present  year.  Esto  Perpetua  is  all  we  have 
to  say. 

"Visitors'  List. — Arrivals  since  our  last.  North  Shingles  Villa 
— Mrs.  Bygrave ;  Miss  Bygrave." 


272  NO    NAME. 


THE  FOURTH  SCENE. 

ALDBOROUGH,  SUFFOLK. 


CHAPTER  I. 

The  most  striking  spectacle  presented  to  a  stranger  by  the  shores 
of  Suffolk  is  the  extraordinary  defenselessness  of  the  land  against 
the  encroachments  of  the  sea. 

At  Aldborough,  as  elsewhere  on  this  coast,  local  traditions  are, 
for  the  most  part,  traditions  which  have  been  literally  drowned. 
The  site  of  the  old  town,  once  a  populous  and  thriving  port,  has  al- 
most entirely  disappeared  in  the  sea.  The  German  Ocean  has  swal- 
lowed up  streets,  market-places,  jetties,  and  public  walks ;  and  the 
merciless  waters,  consummating  their  work  of  devastation,  closed, 
no  longer  than  eighty  years  since,  over  the  salt-master's  cottage  at 
Aldborough,  now  famous  in  memory  only  as  the  birthplace  of  the 
poet  Crabbe. 

Thrust  back  year  after  year  by  the  advancing  waves,  the  inhabit- 
ants have  receded,  in  the  present  century,  to  the  last  morsel  of  land 
which  is  firm  enough  to  be  built  on — a  strip  of  ground  hemmed  in 
between  a  marsh  on  one  side  and  the  sea  on  the  other.  Here,  trust- 
ing for  their  future  security  to  certain  sand-hills  which  the  capri- 
cious waves  have  thrown  up  to  encourage  them,  the  people  of  Ald- 
borough have  boldly  established  their  quaint  little  watering-place. 
The  first  fragment  of  their  earthly  possessions  is  a  low  natural  dike 
of  shingle,  surmounted  by  a  public  path  which  runs  parallel  with 
the  sea.  Bordering  this  path,  in  a  broken,  uneven  line,  are  the  villa 
residences  of  modern  Aldborough — fanciful  little  houses,  standing 
mostly  in  their  own  gardens,  and  possessing  here  and  there,  as  hor- 
ticultural ornaments,  staring  figure-heads  of  ships,  doing  duty  for 
statues  among  the  flowers.  Viewed  from  the  low  level  on  which 
these  villas  stand,  the  sea,  in  certain  conditions  of  the  atmosphere, 
appears  to  be  higher  than  the  land  :  coasting-vessels  gliding  by  as- 
sume gigantic  proportions,  and  look  alarmingly  near  the  windows. 
Intermixed  with  the  houses  of  the  better  sort  are  buildings  of  other 
forms  and  periods.  In  one  direction  the  tiny  Gothic  town-hall  of 
old  Aldborough — once  the  centre  of  the  vanished  port  and  borough 
— now  stands,  fronting  the  modern  villas  close  on  the  margin  of  the 
sea.     At  another  point,  a  wooden  tower  of  observation,  crowned  by 


NO    NAME.  273 

the  figure-head  of  a  wrecked  Russian- vessel,  rises  high  above  the 
neighboring  houses,  aud  discloses  through  its  scuttle-window  grave 
men  in  dark  clothing  seated  on  the  topmost  story,  perpetually  on 
the  watch — the  pilots  of  Aldborough  looking  out  from  their  tower 
for  ships  in  want  of  help.  Behind  the  row  of  buildings  thus  curi- 
ously intermingled  urns  the  one  straggling  street  of  the  town,  with 
its  sturdy  pilots'  cottages,  its  moldering  marine  store-houses,  and  its 
composite  shops.  Toward  the  northern  end  this  street  is  bounded 
by  the  one  eminence  visible  over  all  the  marshy  flatJ-a  low  wooded 
hill,  on  which  the  church  is  built.  At  its  opposite  extremity  the 
street  leads  to  a  deserted  martello  tower,  and  to  the  forlorn  outly- 
ing suourb  of  Slaughden,  between  the  river  Aide  and  the  sea.  Such 
are  the  main  characteristics  of  this  curious  little  outpost  on  the 
shores  of  England  as  it  appears  at  the  present  time. 

On  a  hot  and  cloudy  July  afternoon,  and  on  the  second  day  which 
had  elapsed  since  he  had  written  to  Magdalen,  Captain  Wragge 
sauntered  through  the  gate  of  North  Shingles  Villa  to  meet  the  ar- 
rival of  the  coach,  which  then  connected  Aldborough  with  the  East- 
ern Counties  Railway.  He  reached  the  principal  inn  as  the  coach 
drove  up,  and  was  ready  at  the  door  to  receive  Magdalen  and  Mrs. 
Wragge,  on  their  leaving  the  vehicle. 

The  captain's  reception  of  his  wife  was  not  characterized  by  an 
instant's  unnecessary  waste  of  time.  He  looked  distrustfully  at  her 
shoes — raised  himself  on  tiptoe — set  her  bonnet  straight  for  her  with 
a  sharp  tug — said,  in  a  loud  whisper,  "  hold  your  tongue  " — and  left 
her,  for  the  time  being,  without  further  notice.  His  welcome  to 
Magdalen,  beginning  with  the  usual  flow  of  words,  stopped  sudden- 
ly in  the  middle  of  the  first  sentence.  Captain  Wragge's  eye  was  a 
sharp  one,  and  it  instantly  showed  him  something  in  the  look  and 
manner  of  his  old  pupil  which  denoted  a  serious  change. 

There  was  a  settled  composure  on  her  face  which,  except  when 
6he  spoke,  made  it  look  as  still  and  cold  as  marble.  Her  voice  was 
softer  and  more  equable,  her  eyes  were  steadier,  her  step  was  slower 
than  of  old.  When  she  smiled,  the  smile  came  and  went  suddenly, 
and  showed  a  little  nervous  contraction  on  one  side  of  her  mouth 
never  visible  there  before.  She  was  perfectly  patient  with  Mrs. 
Wragge ;  she  treated  the  capta^ii  with  a  courtesy  and  consideration 
entirely  new  in  his  experience  of  her — but  she  was  interested  in 
nothing.  The  curious  little  shops  in  the  back  street ;  the  high  im- 
pending sea ;  the  old  town-hall  on  the  beach ;  the  pilots,  the  fisher- 
men, the  passing  ships — she  noticed  all  these  objects  as  indifferently 
as  if  Aldborough  had  been  familiar  to  her  from  her  infancy.  Even 
when  the  captain  drew  up  at  the  garden-gate  of  North  Shingles, 
and  introduced  her  triumphantly  to  the  new  house,  she  hardly  look- 


274  NO    NAME. 

ed  at  it.     The  first  question  she  asked  related  not  to  her  own  resi- 
dence, but  to  Noel  Vanstone's. 

"  How  near  to  us  does  he  live  ?"  she  inquired,  with  the  only  be- 
trayal of  emotion  which  had  escaped  her  yet. , 

Captain  Wragge  answered  by  pointing  to  the  fifth  villa  from 
North  Shingles,  on  the  Slaughden  side  of  Aldborough.  Magdalen 
suddenly  drew  back  from  the  garden  gate  as  he  indicated  the  situ- 
ation, and  walked  away  by  herself  to  obtain  a  nearer  view  of  the 
house. 

Captain  Wragge  looked  after  her,  and  shook  his  head,  discon- 
tentedly. 

"  May  I  speak  now  ?"  inquired  a  meek  voice  behind  him,  articu- 
lating respectfully  ten  inches  above  the  top  of  his  straw  hat. 

The  captain  turned  round,  and  confronted  his  wife.  The  more 
than  ordinary  bewilderment  visible  in  her  face  at  once  suggested  to 
him  that  Magdalen  had  failed  to  carry  out  the  directions  in  his  let- 
ter ;  and  that  Mrs.  Wragge  had  arrived  at  Aldborough  without  be- 
ing properly  aware  of  the  total  transformation  to  be  accomplished 
in  her  identity  and  her  name.  The  necessity  of  setting  this  doubt 
at  rest  was  too  serious  to  be  trifled  with ;  and  Captain  Wragge  in- 
stituted the  necessary  inquiries  without  a  moment's  delay. 

"  Stand  straight,  and  listen  to  me,"  he  began.  "  I  have  a  ques- 
tion to  ask  you.  Do  you  know  whose  Skin  you  are  in  at  this  mo- 
ment ?  Do  you  know  that  you  are  dead  and  buried  in  London ; 
and  that  you  have  risen  like  a  phoenix  from  the  ashes  of  Mrs. 
Wragge  ?  No  !  you  evidently  don't  know  it.  This  is  perfectly  dis- 
graceful.    What  is  your  name  ?" 

"  Matilda,"  answered  Mrs.  Wragge,  in  a  state  of  the  densest  be- 
wilderment. 

"  Nothing  of  the  sort !"  cried  the  captain,  fiercely.  "  How  dare 
you  tell  me  your  name's  Matilda  ?  Your  name  is  Julia.  Who  am 
I  ? — Hold  that  basket  of  sandwiches  straight,  or  I'll  pitch  it  into  the 
sea  ! — Who  am  I  ?" 

"  I  don't  know,"  said  Mrs.  Wragge,  meekly  taking  refuge  in  the 
negative  side  of  the  question  this  time. 

"  Sit  down  !"  said  her  husband,  pointing  to  the  low  garden  wall 
of  North  Shingles  Villa.  "  More  to  the  right !  More  still !  That 
will  do.  You  don't  know  ?"  repeated  the  captain,  sternly  confront- 
ing his  wife  as  soon  as  he  had  contrived,  by  seating  her,  to  place 
her  face  on  a  level  with  his  own.  "  Don't  let  me  hear  you  say  that 
a  second  time.  Don't  let  me  have  a  woman  who  doesn't  know  who 
I  am,  to  operate  on  my  beard  to-morrow  morning.  Look  at  me ! 
More  to  the  left — more  still — that  will  do.  Who  am  I  ?  I'm  Mr. 
Bygrave  —  Christian  name,  Thomas.  Who  are  you?  You're  Mrs. 
Bygrave —  Christian  name,  Julia,     Who  is  that  young  lady  who 


NO    NAME.  275 

traveled  with  you  from  London  ?  That  young  lady  is  Miss  Bygrave 
— Christian  name,  Susan.  I'm  her  clever  uncle  Tom  ;  and  you're 
her  addle-headed  aunt  Julia.  Say  it  all  over  to  me  instantly,  like 
the  Catechism  !     What  is  your  name  ?" 

"  Spare  my  poor  head !"  pleaded  Mrs.  Wragge.  "  Oh  please  spare 
my  poor  head  till  I've  got  the  stage-coach  out  of  it !" 

"Don't  distress  her,"  said  Magdalen,  joining  them  at  that  mo- 
ment.    "  She  will  learn  it  in  time.     Come  into  the  house." 

Captain  Wragge  shook  his  wary  head  once  more.  "  We  are  be- 
ginning badly,"  he  said,  with  less  politeness  than  usual.  "  My 
wife's  stupidity  stands  in  our  way  already." 

They  went  into  the  house.  Magdalen  was  perfectly  satisfied  with 
all  the  captain's  arrangements ;  she  accepted  the  room  which  he 
had  set  apart  for  her ;  approved  of  the  woman  servant  whom  he  had 
engaged ;  presented  herself  at  tea-time  the  moment  she  was  sum- 
moned—  but  still  showed  no  interest  whatever  in  the  new  scene 
around  her.  Soon  after  the  table  was  cleared,  although  the  day- 
light had  not  yet  faded  out,  Mrs.  Wragge's  customary  drowsiness 
after  fatigue  of  any  kind  overcame  her,  and  she  received  her  hus- 
band's orders  to  leave  the  room  (taking  care  that  she  left  it  "  up  at 
heel "),  and  to  betake  herself  (strictly  in  the  character  of  Mrs.  By- 
grave)  to  bed.  As  soon  as  they  were  left  alone,  the  captain  looked 
hard  at  Magdalen,  and  waited  to  be  spoken  to.  She  said  nothing. 
He  ventured  next  on  opening  the  conversation  by  a  polite  inquiry 
after  the  state  of  her  health.  "  You  look  fatigued,"  he  remarked, 
in  his  most  insinuating  manner.  "  I  am  afraid  the  journey  has  been 
too  much  for  you." 

"  No,"  she  replied,  looking  out  listlessly  through  the  window ; 
"  I  am  not  more  tired  than  usual.  I  am  always  weary  now ;  weary 
at  going  to  bed,  weary  at  getting  up.  If  you  would  like  to  hear 
what  I  have  to  say  to  you  to-night,  I  am  willing  and  ready  to  say 
it.  Can't  we  go  out  ?  It  is  very  hot  here ;  and  the  droning  of  those 
men's  voices  is  beyond  all  endurance."  She  pointed  through  the 
window  to  a  group  of  boatmen  idling,  as  only  nautical  men  can  idle, 
against  the  garden  wall.  "  Is  there  no  quiet  walk  in  this  wretched 
place?"  she  asked,  impatiently.  "Can't  we  breathe  a  little  fresh 
air,  and  escape  being  annoyed  by  strangers?" 

"There  is  perfect  solitude  within  half  an  hour's  walk  of  the 
house,"  replied  the  ready  captain. 

"  Very  well.     Come  out,  then." 

With  a  weary  sigh  she  took  up  her  straw  bonnet  and  her  light 
muslin  scarf  from  the  side-table  upon  which  she  had  thrown  them 
on  coming  in,  and  carelessly  led  the  way  to  the  door.  Captain 
Wragge  followed  her  to  the  garden  gate,  then  stopped,  struck  by  a 
new  idea, 


276  NO    NAME. 

"  Excuse  me,"  he  whispered,  confidentially.  "  In  my  wife's  exist- 
ing state  of  ignorance  as  to  who  she  is,  we  had  better  not  trust  her 
alone  in  the  house  with  a  new  servant.  I'll  privately  turn  the  key 
on  her,  in  case  she  wakes  before  we  come  back.  Safe  bind,  safe 
find — you  know  the  proverb ! — I  will  be  with  you  again  in  a  moment." 

He  hastened  back  to  the  house,  and  Magdalen  seated  herself  on 
the  garden  wall  to  await  his  return. 

She  had  hardly  settled  herself  in  that  position,  when  two  gentle- 
men walking  together,  whose  approach  along  the  public  path  she 
had  not  previously  noticed,  passed  close  by  her. 

The  dress  of  one  of  the  two  strangers  showed  him  to  be  a  clergy- 
man. His  companion's  station  in  life  was  less  easily  discernible 
to  ordinary  observation.  Practiced  eyes  would  probably  have  seen 
enough  in  his  look,  his  manner,  and  his  walk,  to  show  that  he  was 
a  sailor.  He  was  a  man  in  the  prime  of  life ;  tall,  spare,  and  muscu- 
lar; his  face  sun-burned  to  a  deep  brown ;  his  black  hair  just  turn- 
ing gray ;  his  eyes  dark,  deep,  and  firm — the  eyes  of  a  man  with  an 
iron  resolution,  and  a  habit  of  command.  He  was  the  nearest  of 
the  two  to  Magdalen,  as  he  and  his  friend  passed  the  place  where 
she  was  sitting;  and  he  looked  at  her  with  a  sudden  surprise  at 
her  beauty,  with  an  open,  hearty,  undisguised  admiration,  which 
was  too  evidently  sincere,  too  evidently  beyond  his  own  control,  to 
be  justly  resented  as  insolent ;  and  yet,  in  her  humor  at  that  moment, 
Magdalen  did  resent  it.  She  felt  the  man's  resolute  black  eyes 
strike  through  her  with  an  electric  suddenness ;  and  frowning  at 
him  impatiently,  she  turned  away  her  head  and  looked  back  at  the 
house. 

The  next  moment  she  glanced  round  again  to  see  if  he  had  gone 
on.  He  had  advanced  a  few  yards — had  then  evidently  stopped-- 
and  was  now  in  the  very  act  of  turning  to  look  at  her  once  more. 
His  companion,  the  clergyman,  noticing  that  Magdalen  appeared  to 
be  annoyed,  took  him  familiarly  by  the  arm,  and,  half  in  jest,  half 
in  earnest,  forced  him  to  walk  on.  The  two  disappeared  round  the 
corner  of  the  next  house.  As  they  turned  it,  the  sun-burned  sailor 
twice  stopped  his  companion  again,  and  twice  looked  back. 

"  A  friend  of  yours  ?"  inquired  Captain  Wragge,  joining  Magdalen 
at  that  moment. 

"  Certainly  not,"  she  replied ;  "  a  perfect  stranger.  He  stared  at 
me  in  the  most  impertinent  manner.     Does  he  belong  to  this  place  ?" 

"  I'll  find  out  in  a  moment,"  said  the  compliant  captain,  joining 
the  group  of  boatmen,  and  putting  his  questions  right  and  left,  with 
the  easy  familiarity  which  distinguished  him.  He  returned  in  a  few 
minutes  with  a  complete  budget  of  information.  The  clergyman 
was  well  known  as  the  rector  of  a  place  situated  some  few  miles  in- 
land.    The  dark  man  with  him  was  his  wife's  brother,  commandei 


NO    NAME.  27V 

of  a  ship  in  the  merchant-service.  He  was  supposed  to  be  staying 
with  his  relatives,  as  their  guest  for  a  short  time  only,  preparatory 
to  sailing  on  another  voyage.  The  clergyman's  name  was  Strick- 
land, and  the  merchant-captain's  name  was  Kirke ;  and  that  was 
all  the  boatmen  knew  about  either  of  them. 

"It  is  of  no  consequence  who  they  are,"  said  Magdalen,  careless- 
ly. "  The  man's  rudeness  merely  annoyed  me  for  the  moment.  Let 
us  have  done  with  him.  I  have  something  else  to  think  of,  and  so 
have  you.  Where  is  the  solitary  walk  you  mentioned  just  now  \ 
Which  way  do  we  go  ?" 

The  captain  pointed  southward  toward  Slaughden,  and  offered 
his  arm. 

Magdalen  hesitated  before  she  took  it.  Her  eyes  wandered  away 
inquiringly  to  Noel  Vanstone's  house.  He  was  out  in  the  garden, 
pacing  backward  and  forward  over  the  Little  lawn,  with  his  head 
high  in  the  air,  and  with  Mrs.  Lecount  demurely  in  attendance  on 
him,  carrying  her  master's  green  fan.  Seeing  this,  Magdalen  at 
once  took  Captain  Wragge's  right  arm,  so  as  to  place  herself  nearest 
to  the  garden  when  they  passed  it  on  their  walk. 

"  The  eyes  of  our  neighbors  are  on  us ;  and  the  least  your  niece 
can  do  is  to  take  your  arm,"  she  said,  with  a  bitter  laugh.  "  Come ! 
let  us  go  on." 

"  They  are  looking  this  way,"  whispered  the  captain.  "  Shall  I 
introduce  you  to  Mrs.  Lecount  ?" 

"  Not  to-night,"  she  answered.  "  Wait,  and  hear  what  I  have  to 
say  to  you  first." 

They  passed  the  garden  wall.  Captain  Wragge  took  off  his  hat 
with  a  smart  flourish,  and  received  a  gracious  bow  from  Mrs.  Le- 
count in  return.  Magdalen  saw  the  housekeeper  survey  her  face, 
her  figure,  and  her  dress,  with  that  reluctant  interest,  that  distrustful 
curiosity,  which  women  feel  in  observing  each  other.  As  she  walked 
on  beyond  the  house,  the  sharp  voice  of  Noel  Vanstone  reached  her 
through  the  evening  stillness.  "  A  fine  girl,  Lecount,"  she  heard  him 
say.     "  You  know  I  am  a  judge  of  that  sort  of  thing — a  fine  girl !" 

As  those  words  were  spoken,  Captain  Wragge  looked  round  at  his 
companion  in  sudden  surprise.  Her  hand  was  trembling  violently 
on  his  arm,  and  her  lips  were  fast  closed  with  an  expression  of  speech- 
less pain. 

Slowly  and  in  silence  the  two  walked  on  until  they  reached  the 
southern  limit  of  the  houses,  and  entered  on  a  Little  wilderness  of 
shingle  and  withered  grass — the  desolate  end  of  Aldborough,  the 
lonely  beginning  of  Slaughden. 

It  was  a  dull,  airless  evening.  Eastward  was  the  gray  majesty  of 
the  sea,  hushed  in  breathless  calm ;  the  horizon  line  invisibly  melt- 
ing into  the  monotonous,  misty  sky ;  the  idle  ships  shadowy  and  still 


278  NO    NAME. 

on  the  idle  water.  Southward,  the  high  ridge  of  the  sea  dike,  and 
the  grirn,  massive  circle  of  a  inartello  tower  reared  high  on  its  mound 
of  grass,  closed  the  view  darkly  on  all  that  lay  beyond.  Westward, 
a  lurid  streak  of  sunset  glowed  red  in  the  dreary  heaven,  blackened 
the  fringing  trees  on  the  far  borders  of  the  great  inland  marsh,  and 
turned  its  little  gleaming  water-pools  to  pools  of  blood.  Nearer  to 
the  eye,  the  sullen  flow  of  the  tidal  river  Aide  ebbed  noiselessly  from 
the  muddy  banks ;  and  nearer  still,  lonely  and  unprosperous  by  the 
bleak  water-side,  lay  the  lost  little  port  of  Slaughden,  with  its  for- 
lorn wharfs  and  warehouses  of  decaying  wood,  and  its  few  scattered 
coasting-vessels  deserted  on  the  oozy  river-shore.  No  fall  of  waves 
was  heard  on  the  beach,  no  trickling  of  waters  bubbled  audibly  from 
the  idle  stream.  Now  and  then  the  cry  of  a  sea-bird  rose  from  the 
region  of  the  marsh ;  and  at  intervals,  from  farm-houses  far  in  the 
inland  waste,  the  faint  winding  of  horns  to  call  the  cattle  home  trav- 
eled mournfully  through  the  evening  calm. 

Magdalen  drew  her  hand  from  the  captain's  arm,  and  led  the  way 
to  the  mound  of  the  martello  tower.  "  I  am  weary  of  walking,1'  she 
said.     "  Let  us  stop  and  rest  here." 

She  seated  herself  on  the  slope,  and  resting  on  her  elbow,  mechan- 
ically pulled  up  and  scattered  from  her  into  the  air  the  tufts  of  grass 
growing  under  her  hand.  After  silently  occupying  herself  in  this 
way  for  some  minutes,  she  turned  suddenly  on  Captain.  Wragge. 
"  Do  I  surprise  you  ?"  she  asked,  with  a  startling  abruptness.  "  Do 
you  find  me  changed  ?" 

The  captain's  ready  tact  warned  him  that  the  time  had  come  to 
be  plain  with  her,  and  to  reserve  his  flowers  of  speech  for  a  more 
appropriate  occasion. 

"  If  you  ask  the  question,  I  must  answer  it,"  he  replied.  "  Yes,  I 
do  find  you  changed." 

She  pulled  up  another  tuft  of  grass.  "  I  suppose  you  can  guess 
the  reason  ?"  she  said. 

The  captain  was  wisely  silent.     He  only  answered  by  a  bow. 

"  I  have  lost  all  care  for  myself,"  she  went  on,  tearing  faster  and 
faster  at  the  tufts  of  grass.  "  Saying  that  is  not  saying  much,  per- 
haps, but  it  may  help  you  to  understand  me.  There  are  things  I 
would  have  died  sooner  than  do  at  one  time — things  it  would  have 
turned  me  cold  to  think  of.  I  don't  care  now  whether  I  do  them  or 
not.  I  am  nothing  to  myself;  I  am  no  more  interested  in  myself 
than  I  am  in  these  handfuls  of  grass.  I  suppose  I  have  lost  some- 
thing. What  is  it?  Heart?  Conscience?  I  don't  know.  Do  you? 
What  nonsense  I  am  talking !  Who  cares  what  I  have  lost  ?  It  has 
gone ;  and  there's  an  end  of  it.  I  suppose  my  outside  is  the  best 
side  of  me — and  that's  left,  at  any  rate.  I  have  not  lost  my  good 
looks,  have  I  ?     There  !  there !  never  mind  answering ;  don't  trou- 


NO    NAME.  279 

blc  yourself  to  pay  me  compliments.  I  have  been  admired  enough 
to-day.  First  the  sailor,  and  then  Mr.  Noel  Vanstone — enough  foi 
any  woman's  vanity,  surely  !  Have  I  any  right  to  call  myself  a  wom- 
an ?  Perhaps  not :  I  am  only  a  girl  in  my  teens.  Oh  me,  I  feel  as 
if  I  was  forty  !"  She  scattered  the  last  fragments  of  grass  to  the 
winds ;  and,  turning  her  back  on  the  captain,  let  her  head  droop  till 
her  cheek  touched  the  turf  bank.  "  It  feels  soft  and  friendly,"  she 
said,  nestling  to  it  with  a  hopeless  tenderness  horrible  to  see.  "  It 
doesn't  cast  me  off.     Mother  Earth !     The  only  mother  I  have  left !" 

Captain  Wragge  looked  at  her  in  silent  surprise.  Such  experi- 
ence of  humanity  as  Tie  possessed  was  powerless  to  sound  to  its 
depths  the  terrible  self-abandonment  which  had  burst  its  way  to  the 
surface  in  her  reckless  words — which  was  now  fast  hurrying  her  to 
actions  more  reckless  still.  "  Devilish  odd  !"  he  thought  to  himself, 
uneasily.  "  Has  the  loss  of  her  lover  turned  her  brain  V  He  con- 
sidered for  a  minute  longer,  and  then  spoke  to  her.  "  Leave  it  till 
to-morrow,"  suggested  the  captain,  confidentially.  "  You  are  a  lit- 
tle tired  to-night.     No  hurry,  my  dear  girl — no  hurry." 

She  raised  her  head  instantly,  and  looked  round  at  him  with  the 
same  angry  resolution,  with  the  same  desperate  defiance  of  herself, 
which  he  had  seen  in  her  face  on  the  memorable  day  at  York  when 
she  had  acted  before  him  for  the  first  time.  "  I  came  here  to  tell 
you  what  is  in  my  mind,"  she  said ;  "  and  I  will  tell  it !"  She  seat- 
ed herself  upright  on  the  slope  ;  and  clasping  her  hands  round  her 
knees,  looked  out  steadily,  straight  before  her,  at  the  slowly  dark- 
ening view.  In  that  strange  position,  she  waited  until  she  had 
composed  herself,  and  then  addressed  the  captain,  without  turning 
her  head  to  look  round  at  him,  in  these  words : 

"  When  you  and  I  first  met,"  she  began  abruptly,  "  I  tried  hard  to 
keep  my  thoughts  to  myself.  I  know  enough  by  this  time  to  know 
that  I  failed.  When  I  first  told  you  at  York  that  Michael  Vanstone 
had  ruined  us,  I  believe  you  guessed  for  yourself  that  I,  for  one,  was 
determined  not  to  submit  to  it.  Whether  you  guessed  or  not,  it  is 
so.  I  left  my  friends  with  that  determination  in  my  mind ;  and  I 
feel  it  in  me  now  stronger,  ten  times  stronger,  than  ever." 

"  Ten  times  stronger  than  ever,"  echoed  the  captain.  "  Exactly 
so — the  natural  result  of  firmness  of  character." 

"  No — the  natural  result  of  having  nothing  else  to  think  of.  I 
had  something  else  to  think  of  before  you  found  me  ill  in  Vauxhall 
Walk.  I  have  nothing  else  to  think  of  now.  Remember  that,  if 
you  find  me  for  the  future  always  harping  on  the  same  string.  One 
question  first.  Did  you  guess  what  I  meant  to  do  on  that  morning 
when  you  showed  me  the  newspaper,  and  when  I  read  the  account 
of  Michael  Vanstone's  death  ?" 

"  Generally,"  replied  Captain  Wragge — "  I  guessed,  generally,  that 


280  NO    NAME. 

you  proposed  dipping  your  hand  into  his  purse,  and  taking  from  it 
(most  jjroperly)  what  was  your  own.  I  felt  deeply  hurt  at  the  time 
by  your  not  permitting  me  to  assist  you.  Why  is  she  so  reserved 
with  me  1  (I  remarked  to  myself) — why  is  she  so  unreasonably  re- 
served ?" 

"  You  shall  have  no  reserve  to  complain  of  now,'1  pursued  Mag- 
dalen. "I  tell  you  plainly,  if  events  had  not  happened  as  they  did, 
you  would  have  assisted  me.  If  Michael  Vanstone  had  not  died,  I 
should  have  gone  to  Brighton,  and  have  found  my  way  safely  to  his 
acquaintance  under  an  assumed  name.  I  had  money  enough  with 
me  to  live  on  respectably  for  many  months  together.  I  would  have 
employed  that  time — I  would  have  waited  a  whole  year,  if  necessa- 
ry, to  destroy  Mrs.  Lecount's  influence  over  him — and  I  would  have 
ended  by  getting  that  influence,  on  my  own  terms,  into  my  own 
hands.  I  had  the  advantage  of  years,  the  advantage  of  novelty,  the 
advantage  of  downright  desperation,  all  on  my  side,  and  I  should 
have  succeeded.  Before  the  year  was  out — before  half  the  year  was 
out  —  you  should  have  seen  Mrs.  Lecount  dismissed  by  her  master, 
and  you  should  have  seen  me  taken  into  the  house  in  her  place,  as 
Michael  Vanstone's  adopted  daughter  —  as  the  faithful  friend  who 
had  saved  him  from  an  adventuress  in  his  old  age.  Girls  no  older 
than  I  am  have  tried  deceptions  as  hopeless  in  appearance  as  mine, 
and  have  carried  them  through  to  the  end.  I  had  my  story  ready; 
I  had  my  plans  all  considered ;  I  had  the  weak  point  in"  that  old 
man  to  attack  in  my  way,  which  Mrs.  Lecount  had  found  out  before 
me  to  attack  in  hers,  and  I  tell  you  again  I  should  have  succeeded." 

"  I  think  you  would,"  said  the  captain.     "  And  what  next  ?" 

"  Mr.  Michael  Vanstone  would  have  changed  his  man  of  business 
next.  You  would  have  succeeded  to  the  place ;  and  those  clever 
speculations  on  which  he  was  so  fond  of  venturing  would  have  cost 
him  the  fortunes  of  which  he  had  robbed  my  sister  and  myself.  To 
the  last  farthing,  Captain  Wragge,  as  certainly  as  you  sit  there,  to 
the  last  farthing !  A  bold  conspiracy,  a  shocking  deception — wasn't 
it  ?  I  don't  care !  Any  conspiracy,  any  deception,  is  justified  to 
my  conscience  by  the  vile  law  which  has  left  us  helpless.  You  talk- 
ed of  my  reserve  just  now.  Have  I  dropped  it  at  last  ?  Have  I 
spoken  out  at  the  eleventh  hour  ?" 

The  captain  laid  his  hand  solemnly  on  his  heart,  and  launched 
himself  once  more  on  his  broadest  flow  of  language. 

"  You  fill  me  with  unavailing  regret,"  he  said.  "  If  that  old  man 
had  lived,  what  a  crop  I  might  have  reaped  from  him !  What  enor- 
mous transactions  in  moral  agriculture  it  might  have  been  my  priv- 
ilege to  carry  on  !  Ars  longa"  said  Captain  Wragge,  pathetically 
drifting  into  Latin — "  vita  brevis!  Let  us  drop  a  tear  on  the  lost 
opportunities  of  the  past,  and  try  what  the  present  can  do  to  con- 


NO   NAME.  281 

sole  us.  One  conclusion  is  clear  to  my  minrl — the  experiment  you 
proposed  to  try  with  Mr.  Michael  Vanstone  is  totally  hopeless,  my 
dear  girl,  in  the  case  of  his  son.  His  son  is  impervious  to  ;ill  com- 
mon forms  of  pecuniary  temptation.  You  may  trust  my  solemn  as- 
surance," continued  the  captain,  speaking  with  an  indignant  recol- 
lection of  the  answer  to  his  advertisement  in  the  Times,  "when  I 
inform  you  that  Mr.  Noel  Vanstone  is  emphatically  the  meanest  of 
mankind." 

"  I  can  trust  my  own  experience  as  well,"  said  Magdalen.  "  I 
have  seen  him,  and  spoken  to  him — I  know  him  better  than  you  do. 
Another  disclosure,  Captain  Wragge,  for  your  private  ear!  I  sent 
you  back  certain  articles  of  costume  when  they  had  served  the  pur- 
pose for  which  I  took  them  to  London.  That  purpose  was  to  find 
my  way  to  Noel  Vanstone  in  disguise,  and  to  judge  for  myself  of 
Mrs.  Lecount  and  her  master.  I  gained  my  object;  and  I  tell  you 
again,  I  know  the  two  people  in  that  house  yonder  whom  we  have 
now  to  deal  with  better  than  you  do." 

Captain  Wragge  expressed  the  profound  astonishment,  and  asked 
the  innocent  questions  appropriate  to  the  mental  condition  of  a  per- 
son taken  completely  by  surprise. 

"  Well,"  he  resumed,  when  Magdalen  had  briefly  answered  him, 
"  and  what  is  the  result  on  your  own  mind  ?  There  must  be  a  re- 
sult, or  we  should  not  be  here.  You  see  your  way  ?  Of  course,  my 
dear  girl,  you  see  your  way  ?" 

"  Yes,"  she  said,  quickly.     "  I  see  my  way." 

The  captain  drew  a  little  nearer  to  her,  with  eager  curiosity  ex- 
pressed in  every  line  of  his  vagabond  face. 

"  Go  on,"  he  said,  in  an  anxious  whisper ;  "  pray  go  on." 

She  looked  out  thoughtfully  into  the  gathering  darkness,  with- 
out answering,  without  appearing  to  have  heard  him.  Her  lips 
closed,  and  her  clasped  hands  tightened  mechanically  round  her 
knees. 

"  There  is  no  disguising  the  fact,"  said  Captain  Wragge,  warily 
rousing  her  into  speaking  to  him.  "  The  son  is  harder  to  deal  with 
than  the  father — " 

"  Not  in  my  way,"  she  interposed,  suddenly. 

"Indeed!"  said  the  captain.  "Well!  they  say  there  is  a  short 
cut  to  every  thing,  if  we  only  look  long  enough  to  find  it.  You 
have  looked  long  enough,  I  suppose,  and  the  natural  result  has  fol- 
lowed— you  have  found  it." 

"I  have  not  troubled  myself  to  look;  I  have  found  it  without 
looking." 

"  The  deuce  you  have !"  cried  Captain  Wragge,  in  great  perplexi- 
ty. "  My  dear  girl,  is  my  view  of  your  present  position  leading  me 
altogether  astray  ?     As  I  understand  it,  here  is  Mr.  Noel  Vanstone 


282  NO   NAME. 

in  possession  of  your  fortune  and  your  sister's,  as  his  father  was, 
and  determined  to  keep  it,  as  his  father  was  ?" 

"  Yes." 

"  And  here  are  you — quite  helpless  to  get  it  by  persuasion — quite 
helpless  to  get  it  by  law — just  as  resolute  in  his  case  as  you  were  in 
his  father's,  to  take  it  by  stratagem  in  spite  of  him?" 

"  Just  as  resolute.  Not  for  the  sake  of  the  fortune — mind  that ! 
For  the  sake  of  the  right." 

"Just  so.  And  the  means  of  coming  at  that  right  which  were 
hard  with  the  father — who  was  not  a  miser — are  easy  with  the  son, 
who  is  ?" 

"  Perfectly  easy." 

"  Write  me  down  an  Ass  for  the  first  time  in  my  life  1"  cried  the 
captain,  at  the  end  of  his  patience.  "  Hang  me  if  I  know  what  you 
mean !" 

She  looked  round  at  him  for  the  first  time — looked  him  straight 
and  steadily  in  the  face. 

"  I  will  tell  you  what  I  mean,"  she  said.     "  I  mean  to  marry  him." 

Captain  Wragge  started  up  on  his  knees,  and  stopped  on  them, 
petrified  by  astonishment. 

"  Remember  what  I  told  you,"  said  Magdalen,  looking  away  from 
him  again.  "  I  have  lost  all  care  for  myself.  I  have  only  one  end 
in  life  now,  and  the  sooner  I  reach  it — and  die — the  better.  If — " 
She  stopped,  altered  her  position  a  little,  and  pointed  with  one  hand 
to  the  fast-ebbing  stream  beneath  her,  gleaming  dim  in  the  darken- 
ing twilight — "  if  I  had  been  what  I  once  was,  I  would  have  thrown 
myself  into  that  river  sooner  than  do  what  I  am  going  to  do  now. 
As  it  is,  I  trouble  myself  no  longer;  I  weary  my  mind  with  no  more 
schemes.  The  short  way  and  the  vile  way  lies  before  me.  I  take 
it,  Captain  Wragge,  and  marry  him." 

"  Keeping  him  in  total  ignorance  of  who  you  are  ?"  said  the  cap- 
tain, slowly  rising  to  his  feet,  and  slowly  moving  round,  so  as  to 
see  her  face.     "  Marrying  him  as  my  niece,  Miss  Bygrave  ?" 

"As  your  niece,  Miss  Bygrave." 

"  And  after  the  marriage —  ?"  His  voice  faltered,  as  he  began  the 
question,  and  he  left  it  unfinished. 

"After  the  marriage,"  she  said,  "I  shall  stand  in  no  further  need 
of  your  assistance." 

The  captain  stooped  as  she  gave  him  that  answer,  looked  close  at 
her,  and  suddenly  drew  back,  without  uttering  a  word.  He  walked 
away  some  paces,  and  sat  down  again  doggedly  on  the  grass.  If 
Magdalen  could  have  seen  his  face  in  the  dying  light,  his  face  would 
have  startled  her.  For  the  first  time,  probably,  since  his  boyhood, 
Captain  Wragge  had  changed  color.     He  was  deadly  pale. 

"  Have  you  nothing  to  say  to  me  ?"  she  asked.     "  Perhaps  you  are 


CAPTAIN    WRAGGE    STARTED    UP    ON    HIS    KNEES,    AND    STOPPED    ON    THEM, 
PETRIFIED    BY   ASTONISHMENT. 


NO    NAME.  285 

Waiting  to  hear  what  terms  I  have  to  offer?  These  are  my  terms  : 
I  pay  all  our  expenses  here ;  and  when  we  part,  on  the  day  of  the 
marriage,  you  take  a  farewell  gift  away  with  you  of  two  hundred 
pounds.  Do  you  promise  me  your  assistance  on  those  condi- 
tions ?" 

"  What  am  I  expected  to  do  ?"  he  asked,  with  a  furtive  look  at 
her,  and  a  sudden  distrust  in  his  voice. 

"  You  are  exjiected  to  preserve  my  assumed  character  and  your 
own,"  she  answered,  "  and  you  are  to  prevent  any  inquiries  of  Mrs. 
Lecount's  from  discovering  who  I  really  am.  I  ask  no  more.  The 
rest  is  my  responsibility — not  yours." 

"  I  have  nothing  to  do  with  what  happens — at  any  time,  or  in  any 
place — after  the  marriage  ?" 

"  Nothing  whatever." 

"  I  may  leave  you  at  the  church  door  if  I  please  ?" 

"  At  the  church  door,  with  your  fee  in  your  pocket." 

"  Paid  from  the  money  in  your  own  possession  ?" 

"  Certainly !     How  else  should  I  pay  it  ?" 

Captain  Wragge  took  off  his  hat,  and  passed  his  handkerchief 
over  his  face  with  an  air  of  relief. 

"  Give  me  a  minute  to  consider  it,"  he  said. 

"As  many  minutes  as  you  like,"  she  rejoined,  reclining  on  the 
bank  in  her  former  position,  and  returning  to  her  former  occupation 
of  tearing  up  the  tufts  of  grass  and  flinging  them  out  into  the  air. 

The  captain's  reflections  were  not  complicated  by  any  unnecessary 
divergences  from  the  contemplation  of  his  own  position  to  the  con- 
templation of  Magdalen's.  Utterly  incapable  of  appreciating  the 
injury  done  her  by  Frank's  infamous  treachery  to  his  engagement — 
an  injury  which  had  severed  her,  at  one  cruel  blow,  from  the  aspira- 
tion which,  delusion  though  it  was,  had  been  the  saving  aspiration 
of  her  life — Captain  Wragge  accepted  the  simple  fact  of  her  despair 
just  as  he  found  it,  and  then  looked  straight  to  the  consequences  of 
the  proposal  which  she  had  made  to  him. 

In  the  prospect  hefove  the  marriage  he  saw  nothing  more  serious 
involved  than  the  practice  of  a  deception,  in  no  important  degree 
different — except  in  the  end  to  be  attained  by  it — from  the  decep- 
tions which  his  vagabond  life  had  long  since  accustomed  him  to 
contemplate  and  to  carry  out.  In  the  prospect  after  the  marriage 
he  dimly  discerned,  through  the  ominous  darkness  of  the  future, 
the  lurking  phantoms  of  Terror  and  Crime,  and  the  black  gulfs  be- 
hind them  of  Ruin  and  Death.  A  man  of  boundless  audacity  and 
resource,  within  his  own  mean  limits ;  beyond  those  limits,  the  cap- 
tain was  as  deferentially  submissive  to  the  majesty  of  the  law  as  the 
most  harmless  man  in  existence;  as  cautious  in  looking  after  his 


286  NO    NAME. 

own  personal  safety  as  the  veriest  coward  that  ever  walked  the 
earth.  But  one  serious  question  now  filled  his  mind.  Could  he,  on 
the  terms  proposed  to  him,  join  the  conspiracy  against  Noel  Van- 
stone  up  to  the  point  of  the  marriage,  and  then  withdraw  from  it, 
without  risk  of  involving  himself  in  the  consequences  which  his  ex- 
perience told  him  must  certainly  ensue  ? 

Strange  as  it  may  seem,  his  decision  in  this  emergency  was  main- 
ly influenced  by  no  less  a  person  than  Noel  Vanstone  himself.  The 
captain  might  have  resisted  the  money-offer  which  Magdalen  had 
made  to  him — for  the  profits  of  the  Entertainment  had  filled  his 
pockets  with  more  than  three  times  two  hundred  pounds.  But  the 
prospect  of  dealing  a  blow  in  the  dark  at  the  man  who  had  esti- 
mated his  information  and  himself  at  the  value  of  a  five-pound  note 
proved  too  much  for  his  caution  and  his  self-control.  On  the  small 
neutral  ground  of  self-importance,  the  best  men  and  the  worst  meet 
on  the  same  terms.  Captain  Wragge's  indignation,  when  he  saw 
the  answer  to  his  advertisement,  stooped  to  no  retrospective  esti- 
mate of  his  own  conduct :  he  was  as  deeply  offended,  as  sincerely 
angry  as  if  he  had  made  a  perfectly  honorable  proposal,  and  had 
been  rewarded  for  it  by  a  personal  insult.  He  had  been  too  full  of 
his  own  grievance  to  keep  it  out  of  his  first  letter  to  Magdalen.  He 
had  more  or  less  forgotten  himself  on  every  subsequent  occasion 
when  Noel  Vanstone's  name  was  mentioned.  And  in  now  finally 
deciding  the  course  he  should  take,  it  is  not  too  much  to  say  that 
the  motive  of  money  receded,  for  the  first  time  in  his  life,  into  the 
second  place,  and  the  motive  of  malice  carried  the  day. 

"I  accept  the  terms,"  said  Captain  Wragge,  getting  briskly  on 
his  legs  again.  "  Subject,  of  course,  to  the  conditions  agreed  on 
between  us.  We  part  on  the  wedding-day.  I  don't  ask  where  you 
go :  you  don't  ask  where  I  go.  From  that  time  forth  we  are  stran- 
gers to  each  other." 

Magdalen  rose  slowly  from  the  mound.  A  hopeless  depression,  a 
sullen  despair,  showed  itself  in  her  look  and  manner.  She  refused 
the  captain's  offered  hand ;  and  her  tones,  when  she  answered  him, 
were  so  low  that  he  could  hardly  hear  her. 

"  We  understand  each  other,"  she  said ;  "  and  we  can  now  go 
back.     You  may  introduce  me  to  Mrs.  Lecount  to-morrow." 

"I  must  ask  a  few  questions  first,"  said  the  captain,  gravely. 
"  There  are  more  risks  to  be  run  in  this  matter,  and  more  pitfalls 
in  our  way,  than  you  seem,  to  suppose.  I  must  know  the  whole  his- 
tory of  your  morning  call  on  Mrs.  Lecount  before  I  put  you  and  that 
woman  on  speaking  terms  with  each  other." 

"Wait  till  to-morrow,"  she  broke  out  impatiently.  "Don't  mad- 
den me  by  talking  about  it  to-night." 


NO    NAME.  287 

The  captain  said  no  more.  They  turned  their  faces  toward  Ald- 
borough,  and  walked  slowly  back. 

By  the  time  they  reached  the  houses  night  had  overtaken  them. 
Neither  moon  nor  stars  were  visible.  A  faint  noiseless  breeze  blow- 
ing from  the  land  had  come  with  the  darkness.  Magdalen  paused 
on  the  lonely  public  walk  to  breathe  the  air  more  freely.  After  a 
while  she  turned  her  face  from  the  breeze  and  looked  out  toward 
the  sea.  The  immeasurable  silence  of  the  calm  waters,  lost  in  the 
black  void  of  night,  was  awful.  She  stood  looking  into  the  dark- 
ness, as  if  its  mystery  had  no  secrets  for  her — she  advanced  toward 
it  slowly,  as  if  it  drew  her  by  some  hidden  attraction  into  itself. 

"  I  am  going  down  to  the  sea,"  she  said  to  her  companion. 
"  Wait  here,  and  I  will  come  back." 

He  lost  sight  of  her  in  an  instant;  it  was  as  if  the  night  had  swal- 
lowed her  up.  He  listened,  and  counted  her  footsteps  by  the  crash- 
ing of  them  on  the  shingle  in  the  deep  stillness.  They  retreated 
slowly,  farther  and  farther  away  into  the  night.  Suddenly  the 
sound  of  them  ceased.  Had  she  paused  on  her  course,  or  had  she 
reached  one  of  the  strips  of  sand  left  bare  by  the  ebbing  tide  ? 

He  waited,  and  listened  anxiously.  The  time  passed,  and  no 
sound  reached  him.  He  still  listened,  with  a  growing  distrust  of 
the  darkness.  Another  moment,  and  there  came  a  sound  from  the 
invisible  shore.  Far  and  faint  from  the  beach  below,  a  long  cry 
moaned  through  the  silence.     Then  all  was  still  once  more. 

In  sudden  alarm,  he  stepped  forward  to  descend  to  the  beach,  and 
to  call  to  her.  Before  he  could  cross  the  path,  footsteps  rapidly  ad- 
vancing caught  his  ear.  He  waited  an  instant,  and  the  figure  of  a 
man  passed  quickly  along  the  walk  between  him  and  the  sea.  It 
was  too  dark  to  discern  any  thing  of  the  stranger's  face  ;  it  was  only 
possible  to  see  that  he  was  a  tall  man — as  tall  as  that  officer  in  the 
merchant-service  whose  name  was  Kirke. 

The  figure  passed  on  northward,  and  was  instantly  lost  to  view. 
Captain  Wragge  crossed  the  path,  and,  advancing  a  few  steps  down 
the  beach,  stopped  and  listened  again.  The  crash  of  footsteps  on 
the  shingle  caught  his  ear  once  more.  Slowly,  as  the  sound  had 
left  him,  that  sound  now  came  back.  He  called,  to  guide  her  to  him. 
She  came  on  till  he  could  just  see  her  —  a  shadow  ascending  the 
shingly  slope,  and  growing  out  of  the  blackness  of  the  night. 

"  You  alarmed  me,"  he  whispered,  nervously.  "  I  was  afraid  some- 
thing had  happened.     I  heard  you  cry  out  as  if  you  were  in  pain." 

"  Did  you  ?"  she  said,  carelessly.  "  I  icas  in  pain.  It  doesn't  mat- 
ter— it's  over  now." 

Her  hand  mechanically  swung  something  to  and  fro  as  she  an- 
swered him.  It  was  the  little  white  silk  bag  which  she  had  always 
kept  hidden  in  her  bosom  up  to  this  time.     One  of  the  relics  which 


288  NO    NAME. 

it  held— one  of  the  relics  which  she  had  not  had  the  heart  to  part 
with  before — was  gone  from  its  keeping  forever.  Alone,  on  a  strange 
shore,  she  had  torn  from  her  the  fondest  of  her  virgin  memories,  the 
dearest  of  her  virgin  hopes.  Alone,  on  a  strange  shore,  she  had 
taken  the  lock  of  Frank's  hair  from  its  once-treasured  place,  and 
had  cast  it  away  from  her  to  the  sea  and  the  night. 


CHAPTER  II. 

The  tall  man  who  had  passed  Captain  Wragge  in  the  dark  pro- 
ceeded rapidly  along  the  public  walk,  struck  off  across  a  little  waste 
patch  of  ground,  and  entered  the  open  door  of  the  Aldborough  Ho- 
tel. The  light  in  the  passage,  falling  full  on  his  face  as  he  passed 
it,  proved  the  truth  of  Captain  Wragge's  surmise,  and  showed  the 
stranger  to  be  Mr.  Kirke,  of  the  merchant-service. 

Meeting  the  landlord  in  the  passage,  Mr.  Kirke  nodded  to  him 
with  the  familiarity  of  an  old  customer.  "  Have  you  got  the  2>aper  ?" 
he  asked ;  "  I  want  to  look  at  the  visitors'  list." 

"  I  have  got  it  in  my  room,  sir,"  said  the  landlord,  leading  the  way 
into  a  parlor  at  the  back  of  the  house.  "  Are  there  any  friends  of 
yours  staying  here,  do  you  think  ?" 

Without  replying,  the  seaman  turned  to  the  list  as  soon  as  the 
newspaper  was  placed  in  his  hand,  and  ran  his  finger  down  it,  name 
by  name.  The  finger  suddenly  stopped  at  this  line :  "  Sea-view  Cot- 
tage ;  Mr.  Noel  Vanstone."  Kirke  of  the  merchant-service  repeated 
the  name  to  himself,  and  put  down  the  paper  thoughtfully. 

"  Have  you  found  any  body  you  know,  captain  ?"  asked  the  land- 
lord. 

"  I  have  found  a  name  I  know — a  name  my  father  used  often  to 
speak  of  in  his  time.  Is  this  Mr.  Vanstone  a  family  man  ?  Do  you 
know  if  there  is  a  young  lady  in  the  house  ?" 

"  I  can't  say,  captain.  My  wife  will  be  here  directly  :  she  is  sure 
to  know.  It  must  have  been  some  time  ago,  if  your  father  knew 
this  Mr.  Vanstone  ?" 

"It  was  some  time  ago.  My  father  knew  a  subaltern  officer  of 
that  name  when  he  was  with  his  regiment  in  Canada.  It  would  be 
curious  if  the  person  here  turned  out  to  be  the  same  man,  and  if 
that  young  lady  was  his  daughter." 

"Excuse  me,  captain — TDut  the  young  lady  seems  to  hang  a  little 
on  your  mind,"  said  the  landlord,  with  a  pleasant  smile. 

Mr.  Kirke  looked  as  if  the  form  which  his  host's  good-humor  had 
just  taken  was  not  quite  to  his  mind.  He  returned  abruptly  to  the 
subaltern  officer  and  the  regiment  in  Canada.     "  That  poor  fellow's 


NO   NAME.  289 

story  was  as  miserable  a  one  as  ever  I  heard,"  he  said,  looking  back 
again  absently  at  the  visitors'  list. 

"  Would  there  be  any  harm  in  telling  it,  sir?"  asked  the  landlord. 
"  Miserable  or  not,  a  story's  a  story,  when  you  know  it  to  be  true." 

Mr.  Kirke  hesitated.  "  I  hardly  think  I  should  be  doing  right  to 
tell  it,"  he  said.  "  If  this  man,  or  any  relations  of  his,  are  still  alive, 
it  is  not  a  story  they  might  like  strangers  to  know.  All  I  can  tell 
you  is,  that  my  father  was  the  salvation  of  that  young  officer  under 
very  dreadful  circumstances.  They  parted  in  Canada.  My  father 
remained  with  his  regiment ;  the  young  officer  sold  out  and  returned 
to  England,  and  from  that  moment  they  lost  sight  of  each  other.  It 
would  be  curious  if  this  Vanstone  here  was  the  same  man.  It  would 
be  curious — " 

He  suddenly  checked  himself  just  as  another  reference  to  "  the 
young  lady"  was  on  the  point  of  passing  his  lips.  At  the  same  mo- 
ment the  landlord's  wife  came  in,  and  Mr.  Kirke  at  once  transferred 
his  inquiries  to  the  higher  authority  in  the  house. 

"  Do  you  know  any  thing  of  this  Mr.  Vanstone  who  is  down  here 
on  the  visitors'  list  ?"  asked  the  sailor.     "  Is  he  an  old  man  ?" 

"  He's  a  miserable  little  creature  to  look  at,"  replied  the  landlady ; 
"  but  he's  not  old,  captain." 

"  Then  he  is  not  the  man  I  mean.  Perhaps  he  is  the  man's  son  ? 
Has  he  got  any  ladies  with  him  ?" 

The  landlady  tossed  her  head,  and  pursed  up  her  lips  disparagingly. 

"  He  has  a  housekeeper  with  him,"  she  said.  "  A  middle-aged 
person — not  one  of  my  sort.  I  dare  say  I'm  wrong — but  I  don't  like 
a  dressy  woman  in  her  station  of  life." 

Mr.  Kirke  began  to  look  puzzled.  "  I  must  have  made  some  mis- 
take about  the  house,"  he  said.  "  Surely  there's  a  lawn  cut  octagon- 
shape  at  Sea-view  Cottage,  and  a  white  flag-star!  in  the  middle  of 
the  gravel-walk?" 

"  That's  not  Sea  View,  sir !  It's  North  Shingles  you're  talking  of. 
Mr.  Bygrave's.  His  wife  and  his  niece  came  here  by  the  coach  to- 
day. His  wife's  tall  enough  to  be  put  in  a  show,  and  the  worst- 
dressed  woman  I  ever  set  eyes  on.  But  Miss  Bygrave  is  worth 
looking  at,  if  I  may  venture  to  say  so.  She's  the  finest  girl,  to  my 
mind,  we've  had  at  Aldborough  for  many  a  long  day.  I  wonder 
who  they  are  !     Do  you  know  the  name,  captain  ?" 

"  No,"  said  Mr.  Kirke,  with  a  shade  of  disappointment  on  his 
dark,  weather-beaten  face;  "I  never  heard  the  name  before." 

After  replying  in  those  words,  he  rose  to  take  his  leave.  The 
landlord  vainly  invited  him  to  drink  a  parting  glass ;  the  landlady 
vainly  pressed  him  to  stay  another  ten  minutes,  and  try  a  cup  of  tea. 
He  only  replied  that  his  sister  expected  him,  and  that  he  must  re- 
turn to  the  parsonage  imme^^tely. 


290  NO    NAME. 

On  leaving  the  hotel,  Mr.  Kirke  set  his  face  westward,  and  walked 
inland  along  the  high-road  as  fast  as  the  darkness  would  let  hhn. 

"  Bygrave  ?"  he  thought  to  himself.  "  Now  I  know  her  name, 
how  much  am  I  the  wiser  for  it !  If  it  had  been  Vanstone,  my  fa- 
ther's son  might  have  had  a  chance  of  making  acquaintance  with 
her."  He  stopped,  and  looked  back  in  the  direction  of  Aldborough. 
"  What  a  fool  I  am !"  he  burst  out  suddenly,  striking  his  stick  on 
the  ground.  "  I  was  forty  last  birthday."  He  turned  and  went  on 
again  faster  than  ever  —  his  head  down;  his  resolute  black  eyes 
searching  the  darkness  on  the  land  as  they  had  searched  it  many  a 
time  on  the  sea  from  the  deck  of  his  ship. 

After  more  than  an  hour's  walking  he  reached  a  village,  with  a 
primitive  little  church  and  parsonage  nestled  together  in  a  hollow. 
He  entered  the  house  by  the  back  way,  and  found  his  sister,  the 
clergyman's  wife,  sitting  alone  over  her  work  in  the  parlor. 

"  Where  is  your  husband,  Lizzie  ?"  he  asked,  taking  a  chair  in  a 
corner. 

"  William  has  gone  out  to  see  a  sick  person.  He  had  just  time 
enough  before  he  went,"  she  added,  with  a  smile,  "  to  tell  me  about 
the  young  lady ;  and  he  declares  he  will  never  trust  himself  at  Ald- 
borough with  you  again  until  you  are  a  steady,  married  man."  She 
stopped,  and  looked  at  her  brother  more  attentively  than  she  had 
looked  at  him  yet.  "  Robert !"  she  said,  laying  aside  her  work,  and 
suddenly  crossing  the  room  to  him.  "  You  look  anxious,  you  look 
distressed.  William  only  laughed  about  your  meeting  with  the 
young  lady.     Is  it  serious  ?     Tell  me ;  what  is  she  like  ?" 

He  turned  his  head  away  at  the  question. 

She  took  a  stool  at  his  feet,  and  persisted  in  looking  up  at  him. 
"  Is  it  serious,  Robert  ?"  she  repeated,  softly. 

Kirke's  weather-beaten  face  was  accustomed  to  no  concealments 
— it  answered  for  him  before  he  spoke  a  word.  "  Don't  tell  your 
husband  till  I  am  gone,"  he  said,  with  a  roughness  quite  new  in  his 
sister's  experience  of  him.  "  I  know  I  only  deserve  to  be  laughed 
at ;  but  it  hurts  me,  for  all  that." 

"  Hurts  you  ?"  she  repeated,  in  astonishment. 

"  You  can't  think  me  half  such  a  fool,  Lizzie,  as  I  think  myself," 
pursued  Kirke,  bitterly.  "A  man  at  my  age  ought  to  know  better. 
I  didn't  set  eyes  on  her  for  as  much  as  a  minute  altogether;  and 
there  I  have  been,  hanging  about  the  place  till  after  nightfall,  on 
the  chance  of  seeing  her  again — skulking,  I  should  have  called  it, 
if  I  had  found  one  of  my  men  doing  what  I  have  been  doing  my- 
self. I  believe  I'm  bewitched.  She's  a  mere  girl,  Lizzie — I  doubt 
if  she's  out  of  her  teens — I'm  old  enough  to  be  her  father.  It's  all 
one ;  she  stops  in  my  mind  in  spite  of  me.  I've  had  her  face  look- 
ing at  me,  through  the  pitch  darkness,  every  step  of  the  way  to  this 


NO    NAME.  291 

house ;  and  it's  looking  at  me  now  —  as  plain  as  I  see  yours,  and 
plainer." 

He  rose  impatiently,  and  began  to  walk  backward  and  forward  in 
the  room.  His  sister  looked  after  him,  with  surprise  as  well  as  sym- 
pathy expressed  in  her  face.  From  his  boyhood  upward  she  had 
always  been  accustomed  to  see  him  master  of  himself.  Years  since, 
in  the  failing  fortunes  of  the  family,  he  had  been  their  example  and 
their  support.  She  had  heard  of  him  in  the  desperate  emergencies 
of  a  life  at  sea,  when  hundreds  of  his  fellow-creatures  had  looked 
to  his  steady  self-possession  for  rescue  from  close-threatening  death 
— and  had  not  looked  in  vain.  Never,  in  all  her  life  before,  had  his 
sister  seen  the  balance  of  that  calm  and  equal  mind  lost  as  she  saw 
it  lost  now. 

"How  can  you  talk  so  unreasonably  about  your  age  and  your- 
self?" she  said.  "  There  is  not  a  woman  alive,  Robert,  who  is  good 
enough  for  you.     What  is  her  name  ?" 

"  Bygrave.     Do  you  know  it  ?" 

"  No.  But  I  might  soon  make  acquaintance  with  her.  If  we  only 
had  a  little  time  before  us ;  if  I  could  only  get  to  Aldborough  and 
see  her — but  you  are  going  away  to-morrow ;  your  ship  sails  at  the 
end  of  the  week." 

"  Thank  God  for  that !"  said  Kirke,  fervently. 

"Are  you  glad  to  be  going  away?"  she  asked,  more  and  more 
amazed  at  him. 

"  Right  glad,  Lizzie,  for  my  own  sake.  If  I  ever  get  to  my  senses 
again,  I  shall  find  my  way  back  to  them  on  the  deck  of  my  ship. 
This  girl  has  got  between  me  and  my  thoughts  already :  she  sha'n't 
go  a  step  further,  and  get  between  me  and  my  duty.  I'm  deter- 
mined on  that.  Fool  a*  I  am,  I  have  sense  enough  left  not  to  trust 
myself  within  easy  hail  of  Aldborough  to-morrow  morning.  I'm 
good  for  another  twenty  miles  of  walking,  and  I'll  begin  my  journey 
back  to-night." 

His  sister  started  up,  and  caught  him  fast  by  the  arm.  "  Rob- 
ert!" she  exclaimed;  "you're  not  serious?  You  don't  mean  to 
leave  us  on  foot,  alone  in  the  dark  ?" 

"  It's  only  saying  good-bye,  my  dear,  the  last  thing  at  night  in- 
stead of  the  first  thing  in  the  morning,"  he  answered,  with  a  smile. 
"  Try  and  make  allowances  for  me,  Lizzie.  My  life  has  been  passed 
at  sea;  and  I'm  not  used  to  having  my  mind  upset  in  this  way. 
Men  ashore  are  used  to  it ;  men  ashore  can  take  it  easy.  I  can't. 
If  I  stopped  here,  I  shouldn't  rest.  If  I  waited  till  to-morrow,  I 
should  only  be  going  back  to  have  another  look  at  her.  I  don't 
want  to  feel  more  ashamed  of  myself  than  I  do  already.  I  want  to 
fight  my  way  back  to  my  duty  and  myself,  without  stopping  to 
think  twice  about  it.    Darkness  is  nothing  to  me — I'm  used  to 


292  NO    NAME. 

darkness.  I  have  got  the  high-road  to  walk  on,  and  I  can't  lose 
my  way.  Let  me  go,  Lizzie  !  The  only  sweetheart  I  have  any  busi- 
ness with  at  my  age  is  my  ship.     Let  me  get  back  to  her !" 

His  sister  still  kept  her  hold  of  his  arm,  and  still  pleaded  with  him 
to  stay  till  the  morning.  He  listened  to  her  with  perfect  patience 
and  kindness,  but  she  never  shook  his  determination  for  an  instant. 

"  What  am  I  to  say  to  "William  ?."  she  pleaded.  "  What  will  he 
think  when  he  comes  back  and  finds  you  gone  ?" 

"  Tell  him  I  have  taken  the  advice  he  gave  us  in  his  sermon  last 
Sunday.  Say  I  have  turned  my  back  on  the  world,  the  flesh,  and 
the  devil." 

"  How  can  you  talk  so,  Robert !  And  the  boys  too — you  promised 
not  to  go  without  bidding  the  boys  good-bye." 

"  That's  true.  I  made  my  little  nephews  a  promise,  and  I'll  keep 
it."  He  kicked  off  his  shoes,  as  he  spoke,  on  the  mat  outside  the 
door.  "  Light  me  up  stairs,  Lizzie ;  I'll  bid  the  two  boys  good-bye 
without  waking  them." 

She  saw  the  uselessness  of  resisting  him  any  longer ;  and,  taking 
the  candle,  went  before  him  up  stairs. 

The  boys — both  young  children — were  sleeping  together  in  the 
same  bed.  The  youngest  was  his  uncle's  favorite,  and  was  called 
by  his  uncle's  name.  He  lay  peacefully  asleep,  with  a  rough  little 
toy  ship  bugged  fast  in  his  arms.  Kirke's  eyes  softened  as  he  stole 
on  tiptoe  to  the  child's  side,  and  kissed  him  with  the  gentleness  of 
a  woman.  "  Poor  little  man  !"  said  the  sailor,  tenderly.  "  He  is  as 
fond  of  his  ship  as  I  was  at  his  age.  I'll  cut  him  out  a  better  one 
when  I  come  back.  Will  you  give  me  my  nephew  one  of  these 
days.  Lizzie,  and  will  you  let  me  make  a  sailor  of  him  ?" 

"  Oh,  Robert,  if  you  were  only  married  and  happy,  as  I  am  !" 

"The  time  has  gone  by,  my  dear.  I  must  make  the  best  of  it  as 
I  am,  with  my  little  nephew  there  to  help  me." 

He  left  the  room.  His  sister's  tears  fell  fast  as  she  followed  him 
into  the  parlor.  "  There  is  something  so  forlorn  and  dreadful  in 
your  leaving  us  like  this,"  she  said.  "  Shall  I  go  to  Aldborough 
to-morrow,  Robert,  and  try  if  I  can  get  acquainted  with  her  for  your 
sake  ?" 

"  No  !"  he  replied.  "  Let  her  be.  If  it's  ordered  that  I  am  to  see 
that  girl  again,  I  shall  see  her.  Leave  it  to  the  future,  and  you 
leave  it  right."  He  put  on  his  shoes,  and  took  up  his  hat  and  stick. 
"I  won't  overwalk  myself,"  he  said,  cheerfully.  "If  the  coach 
doesn't  overtake  me  on  the  road,  I  can  wait  for  it  where  I  stop  to 
breakfast.     Dry  your  eyes,  my  dear,  and  give  me  a  kiss." 

She  was  like  her  brother  in  features  and  complexion,  and  she  had 
a  touch  of  her  brother's  spirit ;  she  dashed  away  the  tears,  and  took 
her  leave  of  him  bravely. 


NO   NAME.  295 

"I  shall  be  back  in  a  year's  time,"  said  Kirke,  falling  into  his  old 
sailor-like  way  at  the  door.  "I'll  bring  you  a  China  shawl,  Lizzie, 
and  a  chest  of  tea  for  your  store-room.  Don't  let  the  boys  forget 
me,  and  don't  think  I'm  doing  wrong  to  leave  you  in  this  way.  I 
know  I  am  doing  right.  God  bless  you  and  keep  you,  my  dear — 
and  your  husband,  and  your  children  !     Good-bye  !" 

He  stooped  and  kissed  her.  She  ran  to  the  door  to  look  after 
him.  A  puff  of  air  extinguished  the  candle,  and  the  black  night 
shut  him  out  from  her  in  an  instant. 

Three  days  afterward  the  first-class  merchantman  Deliverance, 
Kirke,  commander,  sailed  from  London  for  the  China  Sea. 


CHAPTER  in. 

The  threatening  of  storm  and  change  passed  away  with  the  night. 
When  morning  rose  over  Aldborough,  the  sun  was  master  in  the 
blue  heaven,  and  the  waves  were  rippling  gayly  under  the  summer 
breeze. 

At  an  hour  when  no  other  visitors  to  the  watering-place  were  yet 
astir,  the  indefatigable  Wragge  appeared  at  the  door  of  North  Shin- 
gles Villa,  and  directed  his  steps  northward,  with  a  neatly-bound 
copy  of  "Joyce's  Scientific  Dialogues"  in  his  hand.  Arriving  at 
the  waste  ground  beyond  the  houses,  he  descended  to  the  beach 
and  opened  his  book.  The  interview  of  the  past  night  had  sharp- 
ened his  perception  of  the  difficulties  to  be  encountered  in  the  com- 
ing enterprise.  He  was  now  doubly  determined  to  try  the  charac- 
teristic experiment  at  which  he  had  hinted  in  his  letter  to  Magdalen, 
and  to  concentrate  on  himself — in  the  character  of  a  remarkably 
well-informed  man  -the  entire  interest  and  attention  of  the  formi- 
dable Mrs.  Lecount. 

Having  taken  his  dose  of  ready-made  science  (to  use  his  own  ex- 
pression) the  first  thing  in  the  morning  on  an  empty  stomach,  Cap- 
tain Wragge  joined  his  small  family  circle  at  breakfast-time,  inflated 
with  information  for  the  day.  He  observed  that  Magdalen's  face 
showed  plain  signs  of  a  sleepless  night.  She  made  no  conqjlaint : 
her  manner  was  composed,  and  her  temper  perfectly  under  control. 
Mrs.  Wragge — refreshed  by  some  thirteen  consecutive  hours  of  un- 
interrupted repose — was  in  excellent  spirits,  and  up  at  heel  (for  a 
wonder)  with  both  shoes.  She  brought  with  her  into  the  room 
several  large  sheets  of  tissue-paper,  cut  crisply  into  mysterious  and 
many-varying  forms,  which  immediately  provoked  from  her  husband 
thj  short  and  sharp  question,  "  What  have  you  got  there  ?" 

Patterns,  captain,"  said  Mrs.  Wragsre.  in  timidly  conciliating 


294  NO   NAME. 

tones.  "  I  went  shopping  in  London,  and  bought  an  Oriental  Cash- 
niere  Robe.  It  cost  a  deal  of  money ;  and  I'm  going  to  try  ana 
save,  by  making  it  myself.  I've  got  my  patterns,  and  my  dress- 
making directions  written  out  as  plain  as  print.  I'll  be  very  tidy, 
captain  ;  I'll  keep  in  my  own  corner,  if  you'll  please  to  give  me  one ; 
and  whether  my  head  Buzzes,  or  whether  it  don't,  I'll  sit  straight 
at  my  work  all  the  same." 

"  You  will  do  your  work,"  said  the  captain,  sternly,  "  when  you 
know  who  you  are,  who  I  am,  and  who  that  young  lady  is — not  be- 
fore. Show  me  your  shoes !  Good.  Show  me  your  cap  !  Good. 
Make  the  breakfast." 

When  breakfast  was  over,  Mrs.  Wragge  received  her  orders  to  re- 
tire to  an  adjoining  room,  and  to  wait  there  until  her  husband  came 
to  release  her.  As  soon  as  her  back  was  turned,  Captain  Wragge 
at  once  resumed  the  conversation  which  had  been  suspended,  by 
Magdalen's  own  desire,  on  the  preceding  night.  The  questions  he 
now  put  to  her  all  related  to  the  subject  of  her  visit  in  disguise  to 
Noel  Vanstone's  house.  They  were  the  questions  of  a  thoroughly 
clear-headed  man — short,  searching,  and  straight  to  the  point.  In 
less  than  half  an  hour's  time  he  had  made  himself  acquainted  with 
every  incident  that  had  happened  in  Vauxhall  Walk. 

The  conclusions  which  the  captain  drew,  after  gaining  his  infor- 
mation, were  clear  and  easily  stated. 

On  the  adverse  side  of  the  question,  he  expressed  his  conviction 
that  Mrs.  Lecount  had  certainly  detected  her  visitor  to  be  disguised ; 
that  she  had  never  really  left  the  room,  though  she  might  have 
opened  and  shut  the  door ;  and  that  on  both  the  occasions,  there- 
fore, when  Magdalen  had  been  betrayed  into  speaking  in  her  own 
voice,  Mrs.  Lecount  had  heard  her.  On  the  favorable  side  of  the 
question,  he  was  perfectly  satisfied  that  the  painted  face  and  eye- 
lids, the  wig,  and  the  padded  cloak  had  so  effectually  concealed 
Magdalen's  identity,  that  she  might  in  her  own  person  defy  the 
housekeeper's  closest  scrutiny,  so  far  as  the  matter  of  appearance 
was  concerned.  The  difficulty  of  deceiving  Mrs.  Lecount's  ears,  as 
well  as  her  eyes,  was,  he  readily  admitted,  not  so  easily  to  be  dis- 
posed of.  But  looking  to  the  fact  that  Magdalen,  on  both  the  oc- 
casions when  she  had  forgotten  herself,  had  spoken  in  the  heat  of 
anger,  he  was  of  opinion  that  her  voice  had  every  reasonable  chance 
of  escaping  detection,  if  she  carefully  avoided  all  outbursts  of  tem- 
per for  the  future,  and  spoke  in  those  more  composed  and  ordi- 
nary tones  which  Mrs.  Lecount  had  not  yet  heard.  Upon  the 
whole,  the  captain  was  inclined  to  pronounce  the  prospect  hopeful, 
if  one  serious  obstacle  were  cleared  away  at  the  outset — that  obsta- 
cle being  nothing  less  than  the  presence  on  the  scene  of  action  of 
Mrs.  Wragge. 


NO    NAME.  295 

To  Magdalen's  surprise,  when  the  course  of  her  narrative  brought 
her  to  the  story  of  the  ghost,  Captain  Wragge  listened  with  the  air 
of  a  man  who  was  more  annoyed  than  amused  by  what  he  heard. 
When  she  had  done,  he  plainly  told  her  that  her  unlucky  meeting 
on  the  stairs  of  the  lodging-house  with  Mrs.  Wragge  was,  in  his 
opinion,  the  most  serious  of  all  the  accidents  that  had  happened  in 
Vauxhall  Walk. 

"  I  can  deal  with  the  difficulty  of  my  wife's  stupidity,"  he  said, 
"  as  I  have  often  dealt  with  it  before.  I  can  hammer  her  new  iden- 
tity into  her  head,  but  I  can't  hammer  the  ghost  out  of  it.  We 
have  no  security  that  the  woman  in  the  gray  cloak  and  poke  bonnet 
may  not  come  back  to  her  recollection  at  the  most  critical  time,  and 
under  the  most  awkward  circumstances.  In  plain  English,  my  dear 
girl,  Mrs.  Wragge  is  a  pitfall  under  our  feet  at  every  step  we  take." 

"  If  we  are  aware  of  the  pitfall,"  said  Magdalen,  "  we  can  take  our 
measures  for  avoiding  it.     What  do  you  propose  ?" 

"  I  propose,"  replied  the  captain,  "  the  temporary  removal  of  Mrs. 
Wragge.  Speaking  purely  in  a  pecuniary  point  of  view,  I  can't 
afford  a  total  separation  from  her.  You  have  often  read  of  very 
poor  people  being  suddenly  enriched  by  legacies  reaching  them 
from  remote  and  unexpected  quarters  ?  Mrs.  Wragge's  case,  when 
I  married  her,  was  one  of  these.  An  elderly  female  relative  shared 
the  favors  of  fortune  on  that  occasion  with  my  wife ;  and  if  I  only 
keep  up  domestic  appearances,  I  happen  to  know  that  Mrs.  Wragge 
will  prove  a  second  time  profitable  to  me  on  that  elderly  relative's 
death.  But  for  this  circumstance,  I  should  probably  long  since 
have  transferred  my  wife  to  the  care  of  society  at  large — in  the  agree- 
able conviction  that  if  I  didn't  support  her,  somebody  else  would. 
Although  I  can't  afford  to  take  this  course,  I  see  no  objection  to 
having  her  comfortably  boarded  and  lodged  out  of  our  way  for  the 
time  being — say,  at  a  retired  farm-house,  in  the  character  of  a  lady 
in  infirm  mental  health.  You  would  find  the  expense  trifling ;  I 
should  find  the  relief  unutterable.  What  do  you  say  ?  Shall  I  pack 
her  up  at  once,  and  take  her  away  by  the  next  coach  ?" 

"  No  !"  replied  Magdalen,  firmly.  "  The  poor  creature's  life  is  hard 
enough  already ;  I  won't  help  to  make  it  harder.  She  was  affec- 
tionately and  truly  kind  to  me  when  I  was  ill,  and  I  won't  allow  her 
to  be  shut  up  among  strangers  while  I  can  help  it.  The  risk  of 
keeping  her  here  is  only  one  risk  more.  I  will  face  it,  Captain 
Wragge,  if  you  won't." 

"  Think  twice,"  said  the  captain,  gravely,  "  before  you  decide  on 
keeping  Mrs.  Wragge." 

"  Once  is  enough,"  rejoined  Magdalen.  "  I  won't  have  her  sent 
away." 

"  Very  good,"  said  the  captain,  resignedly.     "  I  never  interfere 


296  NO  NAME. 

with  questions  of  sentiment.  But  I  have  a  word  to  say  on  my  own 
behalf.  If  my  services  are  to  be  of  any  use  to  you,  I  can't  have  my 
hands  tied  at  starting.  This  is  serious.  I  won't  trust  my  wife  and 
Mrs.  Lecount  together.  I'm  afraid,  if  you're  not,  and  I  make  it  a  con- 
dition that,  if  Mrs.  Wragge  stops  here,  she  keeps  her  room.  If  you 
think  her  health  requires  it,  you  can  take  her  for  a  walk  early  in  the 
morning,  or  late  in  the  evening ;  but  you  must  never  trust  her  out 
with  the  servant,  and  never  trust  her  out  by  herself.  I  put  the  mat- 
ter plainly,  it  is  too  important  to  be  trifled  with.  What  do  you  say 
— yes  or  no  ?" 

"  I  say  yes,"  replied  Magdalen,  after  a  moment's  consideration. 
"  On  the  understanding  that  I  am  to  take  her  out  walking,  as  you 
propose." 

Captain  Wragge  bowed,  and  recovered  his  suavity  of  manner. 
"  What  are  our  plans  ?"  he  inquired.  "  Shall  we  start  our  enterprise 
this  afternoon  ?  Are  you  ready  for  your  introduction  to  Mrs.  Le- 
count and  her  master  ?" 

u  Quite  ready." 

"  Good  again.  We  will  meet  them  on  the  Parade,  at  their  usual 
hour  for  going  out — two  o'clock.  It  is  not  twelve  yet.  I  have  two 
hours  before  me — just  time  enough  to  fit  my  wife  into  her  new  Skin. 
The  jjrocess  is  absolutely  necessary,  to  prevent  her  compromising  us 
with  the  servant.  Don't  be  afraid  about  the  results ;  Mrs.  Wragge 
has  had  a  copious  selection  of  assumed  names  hammered  into  her 
head  in  the  course  of  her  matrimonial  career.  It  is  merely  a  ques- 
tion of  hammering  hard  enough — nothing  more.  I  think  we  have 
settled  every  thing  now.  Is  there  any  thing  I  can  do  before  two 
o'clock  ?     Have  you  any  employment  for  the  morning  ?" 

"  No,"  said  Magdalen.  "  I  shall  go  back  to  my  own  room,  and 
try  to  rest." 

"  You  had  a  disturbed  night,  I  am  afraid  ?"  said  the  captain,  po- 
litely opening  the  door  for  her. 

"  I  fell  asleep  once  or  twice,"  she  answered,  carelessly.  "  I  sup- 
pose my  nerves  are  a  little  shaken.  The  bold  black  eyes  of  that 
man  who  stared  so  rudely  at  me  yesterday  evening  seemed  to  be 
looking  at  me  again  in  my  dreams.  If  we  see  him  to-day,  and  if  he 
annoys  me  any  more,  I  must  trouble  you  to  speak  to  him.  We  will 
meet  here  again  at  two  o'clock.  Don't  be  hard  with  Mrs.  Wragge ; 
teach  her  what  she  must  learn  as  tenderly  as  you  can." 

With  those  words  she  left  him,  and  went  up  stairs. 

She  lay  down  on  her  bed  with  a  heavy  sigh,  and  tried  to  sleep.  It 
was  useless.  The  dull  weariness  of  herself  which  now  possessed  her 
was  not  the  weariness  which  finds  its  remedy  in  repose.  She  rose 
again  and  sat  by  the  window,  looking  out  listlessly  over  the  sea. 

A  weaker  nature  than  hers  would  not  have  felt  the  shock  of 


NO   NAME.  297 

Frank's  desertion  as  she  had  felt  it — as  she  was  feeling  it  still.  A 
weaker  nature  would  have  found  refuge  in  indignation  and  comfort 
in  tears.  The  passionate  strength  of  Magdalen's  love  clung  desper- 
ately to  the  sinking  wreck  of  its  own  delusion — clung,  until  she  tore 
herself  from  it,  by  main  force  of  will.  All  that  her  native  pride,  her 
keen  sense  of  wrong  could  do,  was  to  shame  her  from  dwelling  on 
the  thoughts  which  still  caught  their  breath  of  life  from  the  undy- 
ing devotion  of  the  past ;  which  still  perversely  ascribed  Frank's 
heartless  farewell  to  any  cause  but  the  inborn  baseness  of  the  man 
who  had  written  it.  The  woman  never  lived  yet  who  could  cast  a 
true-love  out  of  her  heart  because  the  object  of  that  love  was  un- 
worthy of  her.  All  she  can  do  is  to  struggle  against  it  in  secret — to 
sink  in  the  contest  if  she  is  weak ;  to  win  her  way  through  it  if  she 
is  strong,  by  a  process  of  self-laceration  which  is,  of  all  moral  reme- 
dies applied  to  a  woman's  nature,  the  most  dangerous  and  the  most 
desperate  ;  of  all  moral  changes,  the  change  that  is  surest  to  mark 
her  for  life.  Magdalen's  strong  nature  had  sustained  her  through 
the  struggle  ;  and  the  issue  of  it  had  left  her  what  she  now  was. 

After  sitting  by  the  window  for  nearly  an  hour,  her  eyes  looking 
mechanically  at  the  view,  her  mind  empty  of  all  impressions,  and 
conscious  of  no  thoughts,  she  shook  off  the  strange  waking  stupor 
that  possessed  her,  and  rose  to  prepare  herself  for  the  serious  busi- 
ness of  the  day. 

She  went  to  the  wardrobe  and  took  down  from  the  pegs  two 
bright,  delicate  muslin  dresses,  which  had  been  made  for  summer 
wear  at  Combe-Raven  a  year  since,  and  which  had  been  of  too  lit- 
tle value  to  be  worth  selling  when  she  parted  with  her  other  pos- 
sessions. After  placing  these  dresses  side  by  side  on  the  bed,  she 
looked  into  the  wTardrobe  once  more.  It  only  contained  one  other 
summer  dress — the  plain  alpaca  gown  which  she  had  worn  during 
her  memorable  interview  with  Noel  Vanstone  and  Mrs.  Lecount. 
This  she  left  in  its  place,  resolving  not  to  wear  it — less  from  any 
dread  that  the  housekeeper  might  recognize  a  pattern  too  quiet  to 
be  noticed,  and  too  common  to  be  remembered,  than  from  the  con- 
viction that  it  was  neither  gay  enough  nor  becoming  enough  for 
her  purpose.  After  taking  a  plain  white  muslin  scarf,  a  pair  of  light 
gray  kid  gloves,  and  a  garden-hat  of  Tuscan  straw,  from  the  drawers 
of  the  wardrobe,  she  locked  it,  and  put  the  key  carefully  in  her 
pocket. 

Instead  of  at  once  proceeding  to  dress  herself,  she  sat  idly  look- 
ing at  the  twTo  muslin  gowns ;  careless  which  she  wore,  and  yet  in- 
consistently hesitating  which  to  choose.  "  What  does  it  matter !" 
she  said  to  herself,  with  a  reckless  laugh ;  "  I  am  equally  worthless 
in  my  own  estimation,  whichever  I  put  on."  She  shuddered,  as  if 
the  sound  of  her  own  laughter  had  startled  her,  and  abruptly  caught 


298  NO   NAME. 

up  the  dress  which  lay  nearest  to  her  hand.  Its  colors  were  blue 
and  white — the  shade  of  blue  which  best  suited  her  fair  complex- 
ion. She  hurriedly  put  on  the  gown,  without  going  near  her  look- 
ing-glass. For  the  first  time  in  her  life  she  shrank  from  meeting 
the  reflection  of  herself — except  for  a  moment,  when  she  arranged 
her  hair  under  her  garden-hat,  leaving  the  glass  again  immediately. 
She  drew  her  scarf  over  her  shoulders  and  fitted  on  her  gloves,  with 
her  back  to  the  toilet-table.  "  Shall  I  paint  ?"  she  asked  herself, 
feeling  instinctively  that  she  was  turning  pale.  "  The  rouge  is  still 
left  in  my  box.  It  can't  make  my  face  more  false  than  it  is  already." 
She  looked  round  toward  the  glass,  and  again  turned  away  from  it. 
"  No !"  she  said.  "  I  have  Mrs.  Lecount  to  face  as  well  as  her  mas- 
ter. No  paint."  After  consulting  her  watch,  she  left  the  room  and 
went  down  stairs  again.     It  wanted  ten  minutes  only  of  two  o'clock. 

Captain  Wragge  was  waiting  for  her  in  the  parlor — respectable, 
in  a  frock-coat,  a  stiff  summer  cravat,  and  a  high  white  hat ;  speck- 
lessly  and  cheerfully  rural,  in  a  buff  waistcoat,  gray  trowsers,  and 
gaiters  to  match.  His  collars  were  higher  than  ever,  and  he  carried 
a  brand-new  camp-stool  in  his  hand.  Any  tradesman  in  England 
who  had  seen  him  at  that  moment  would  have  trusted  him  on  the 
spot. 

"Charming!"  said  the  captain,  paternally  surveying  Magdalen 
when  she  entered  the  room.  "  So  fresh  and  cool !  A  little  too 
pale,  my  dear,  and  a  great  deal  too  serious.  Otherwise  perfect. 
Try  if  you  can  smile." 

"  When  the  time  comes  for  smiling,"  said  Magdalen,  bitterly, 
"  trust  my  dramatic  training  for  any  change  of  face  that  may  be 
necessary.     Where  is  Mrs.  Wragge  ?" 

"  Mrs.  Wragge  has  learned  her  lesson,"  replied  the  captain,  "  and 
is  rewarded  by  my  permission  to  sit  at  work  in  her  own  room.  I 
sanction  her  new  fancy  for  dress-making,  because  it  is  sure  to  ab- 
sorb all  her  attention,  and  to  keep  her  at  home.  There  is  no  fear 
of  her  finishing  the  Oriental  Robe  in  a  hurry,  for  there  is  no  mistake 
in  the  process  of  making  it  which  she  is  not  certain  to  commit. 
She  will  sit  incubating  her  gown — pardon  the  expression — like  a 
hen  over  an  addled  egg.  I  assure  you,  her  new  whim  relieves  me. 
Nothing  could  be  more  convenient,  under  existing  circumstances." 

He  strutted  away  to  the  window,  looked  out,  and  beckoned  to 
Magdalen  to  join  him.  "  There  they  are  !"  he  said,  and  pointed  to 
the  Parade. 

Noel  Vanstone  slowly  walked  by,  as  she  looked,  dressed  in  a  com- 
plete suit  of  old-fashioned  nankeen.  It  was  apparently  one  of  the 
days  when  the  state  of  his  health  was  at  the  worst.  He  leaned  on 
Mrs.  Lecount's  arm,  and  was  protected  from  the  sun  by  a  light  um- 
brella which  she  held  over  him.     The  housekeeper — dressed  to  per- 


NO    NAME.  299 

fcction,  as  usual,  in  a  quiet,  lavender-colored  summer  gown,  a  black 
mantilla,  an  unassuming  straw  bonnet,  and  a  crisp  blue  veil — escort- 
ed her  invalid  master  with  the  tenderest  attention ;  sometimes  di- 
recting his  notice  respectfully  to  the  various  objects  of  the  sea  view ; 
sometimes  bending  her  head  in  graceful  acknowledgment  of  the 
courtesy  of  passing  strangers  on  the  Parade,  who  stepped  aside  to 
let  the  invalid  pass  by.  She  produced  a  visible  effect  among  the 
idlers  on  the  beach.  They  looked  after  her  with  unanimous  in- 
terest, and  exchanged  confidential  nods  of  approval  which  said,  as 
plainly  as  words  could  have  expressed  it,  "  A  very  domestic  person  ! 
a  truly  superior  woman !" 

Captain  Wragge's  party-colored  eyes  followed  Mrs.  Lecount  with 
a  steady,  distrustful  attention.  "  Tough  work  for  us  there,'1'1  he 
whispered  in  Magdalen's  ear ;  "  tougher  work  than  you  think,  be- 
fore we  turn  that  woman  out  of  her  place." 

"  Wait,"  said  Magdalen,  quietly.     "  Wait  and  see." 

She  walked  to  the  door.  The  captain  followed  her  without  mak- 
ing any  further  remark.  "  I'll  wait  till  you're  married,"  he  thought 
to  himself — "  not  a  moment  longer,  offer  me  what  you  may." 

At  the  house  door  Magdalen  addressed  him  again. 

"  We  will  go  that  way,"  she  said,  pointing  southward,  "  then  turn, 
and  meet  them  as  they  come  back." 

Captain  Wragge  signified  his  approval  of  the  arrangement,  and 
followed  Magdalen  to  the  garden  gate.  As  she  opened  it  to  pass 
through,  her  attention  was  attracted  by  a  lady,  with  a  nursery-maid 
and  two  little  boys  behind  her,  loitering  on  the  path  outside  the 
garden  wall.  The  lady  started,  looked  eagerly,  and  smiled  to  her- 
self as  Magdalen  came  out.  Curiosity  had  got  the  better  of  Kirke's 
sister,  and  she  had  come  to  Aldborough  for  the  express  purpose  of 
seeing  Miss  Bygrave. 

Something  in  the  shape  of  the  lady's  face,  something  in  the  ex- 
pression of  her  dark  eyes,  reminded  Magdalen  of  the  merchant-cap- 
tain whose  uncontrolled  admiration  had  annoyed  her  on  the  previous 
evening.  She  instantly  returned  the  stranger's  scrutiny  by  a  frown- 
ing, ungracious  look.  The  lady  colored,  paid  the  look  back  with 
interest,  and  slowly  walked  on. 

"  A  hard,  bold,  bad  girl,"  thought  Kirke's  sister.  "  What  could 
Robert  be  thinking  of  to  admire  her?  I  am  almost  glad  he  is 
gone.  I  hope  and  trust  he  will  never  set  eyes  on  Miss  Bygrave 
again." 

"  What  boors  the  people  are  here !"  said  Magdalen  to  Captain 
Wragge.  "  That  woman  was  even  ruder  than  the  man  last  night. 
She  is  like  him  in  the  face.     I  wonder  who  she  is  ?" 

"  I'll  find  out  directly,"  said  the  captain.  "  We  can't  be  too  cau 
tious  about  strangers."    He  at  once  appealed  to  his  friends,  the  boat- 


300  NO    NAME. 

men.  They  were  close  at  hand,  and  Magdalen  heard  the  questions 
and  answers  plainly. 

"  How  are  you  all  this  morning  ?"  said  Captain  Wragge,  in  his 
easy  jocular  way.  "And  how's  the  wind  ?  Nor' -west  and  by  west, 
is  it  ?     Very  good.     Who  is  that  lady  ?" 

"  That's  Mrs.  Strickland,  sir." 

"  Ay  !  ay !  The  clergyman's  wife  and  the  captain's  sister.  Where's 
the  captain  to-day  ?" 

"  On  his  way  to  London,  I  should  think,  sir.  His  ship  sails  for 
China  at  the  end  of  the  week." 

China !  As  that  one  word  passed  the  man's  lips,  a  pang  of  the  old 
sorrow  struck  Magdalen  to  the  heart.  Stranger  as  he  was,  she  be 
gan  to  hate  the  bare  mention  of  the  merchant-captain's  name.  He 
had  troubled  her  dreams  of  the  past  night;  and  now,  when  she  was 
most  desperately  and  recklessly  bent  on  forgetting  her  old  home- 
existence,  he  had  been  indirectly  the  cause  of  recalling  her  mind  to 
Frank. 

"  Come  !"  she  said,  angrily,  to  her  companion.  "  What  do  we  care 
about  the  man  or  his  ship  ?     Come  away." 

" By  all  means,"  said  Captain  Wragge.  "As  long  as  we  don't  find 
friends  of  the  Bygraves,  what  do  we  care  about  any  body  ?" 

They  walked  on  southward  for  ten  minutes  or  more,  then  turned 
and  walked  back  again  to  meet  Noel  Vanstone  and  Mrs-.  Lecount. 


CHAPTER  IV. 

Captain  Wragge  and  Magdalen  retraced  their  steps  until  they 
were  again  within  view  of  North  Shingles  Villa  before  any  signs 
appeared  of  Mrs.  Lecount  and  her  master.  At  that  point  the  house- 
keeper's lavender-colored  dress,  th».  umbrella,  and  the  feeble  little 
figure  in  nankeen  walking  under  it,  became  visible  in  the  distance. 
The  captain  slackened  his  pace  immediately,  and  issued  his  direc- 
tions to  Magdalen  for  her  conduct  at  the  coming  interview  in  these 
words : 

"  Don't  forget  your  smile,"  he  said.  "  In  all  other  respects  you 
will  do.  The  walk  has  improved  your  complexion,  and  the  hat  be- 
comes you.  Look  Mrs.  Lecount  steadily  in  the  face;  show  no  em- 
barrassment when  you  speak ;  and  if  Mr.  Noel  Vanstone  pays  you 
pointed  attention,  don't  take  too  much  notice  of  him  while  his 
housekeeper's  eye  is  on  you.  Mind  one  thing !  I  have  been  at 
Joyce's  Scientific  Dialogues  all  the  morning;  and  I  am  quite  serious 
in  meaning  to  give  Mrs.  Lecount  the  full  benefit  of  my  studies.  If 
I  can't  contrive  to  divert  her  attention  from  you  and  her  master,  I 


NO    NAME.  301 

won't  give  sixpence  for  our  chance  of  success.  Small-talk  won't 
succeed  with  that  woman;  compliments  won't  succeed  ;  jokes  won't 
succeed — ready-made  science  may  recall  the  deceased  pfofessor,  and 
ready-made  science  may  do.  We  must  establish  a  code  of  signals 
to  let  you  know  what  I  am  about.  Observe  this  camp-stool.  When 
I  shift  it  from  my  left  hand  to  my  right,  I  am  talking  Joyce.  When 
I  shift  it  from  my  right  hand  to  my  left,  I  am  talking  Wragge.  In 
the  first  case,  don't  interrupt  me — I  am  leading  up  to  my  point.  In 
the  second  case,  say  any  thing  you  like ;  my  remarks  are  not  of  the 
slightest  consequence.  Would  you  like  a  rehearsal  ?  Are  you 
sure  you  understand?  Very  good — take  my  arm,  and  look  happy. 
Steady  !  here  they  are." 

The  meeting  took  place  nearly  midway  between  Sea-view  Cottage 
and  North  Shingles.  Captain  Wragge  took  off  his  tall  white  hat, 
and  opened  the  interview  immediately  on  the  friendliest  terms. 

"  Good-morning,  Mrs.  Lecount,"  he  said,  with  the  frank  and  cheer- 
ful politeness  of  a  naturally  sociable  man.  "  Good  morning,  Mr. 
Vanstone ;  I  am  sorry  to  see  you  suffering  to-day.  Mrs.  Lecount, 
permit  me  to  introduce  my  niece  —  my  niece,  Miss  By  grave.  My 
dear  girl,  this  is  Mr.  Noel  Vanstone,  our  neighbor  at  Sea-view  Cot- 
tage. We  must  positively  be  sociable  at  Aldborough,  Mrs.  Lecount. 
There  is  only  one  walk  in  the  place  (as  my  niece  remarked  to  me 
just  now,  Mr.  Vanstone) ;  and  on  that  walk  we  must  all  meet  every 
time  we  go  out.  And  why  not?  Are  we  formal  people  on  either 
side  ?  Nothing  of  the  sort ;  we  are  just  the  reverse.  You  possess 
the  Continental  facility  of  manner,  Mr.  Vanstone — I  match  you  with 
the  blunt  cordiality  of  an  old-fashioned  Englishman  —  the  ladies 
mingle  together  in  harmonious  variety,  like  flowers  on  the  same  bed 
— and  the  result  is  a  mutual  interest  in  making  our  sojourn  at  the 
sea-side  agreeable  to  each  other.  Pardon  my  flow  of  spirits ;  par- 
don my  feeling  so  cheerful  and  so  young.  The  Iodine  in  the  sea- 
air,  Mrs.  Lecount — the  notorious  effect  of  the  Iodine  in  the  sea-air !" 

"  You  arrived  yesterday,  Miss  Bygrave,  did  you  not  ?"  said  the 
housekeeper,  as  soon  as  the  captain's  deluge  of  language  had  come 
to  an  end. 

She  addressed  those  words  to  Magdalen  with  a  gentle  motherly 
interest  in  her  youth  and  beauty,  chastened  by  the  deferential  ami- 
ability which  became  her  situation  in  Noel  Vanstone's  household. 
Not  the  faintest  token  of  suspicion  or  surprise  betrayed  itself  in  her 
face,  her  voice,  or  her  manner,  while  she  and  Magdalen  now  looked 
at  each  other.  It  was  plain  at  the  outset  that  the  true  face  and 
figure  which  she  now  saw  recalled  nothing  to  her  mind  of  the  false 
face  and  figure  which  she  had  seen  in  Vauxhall  Walk.  The  dis- 
guise had  evidently  been  complete  enough  even  to  baffle  the  pene- 
tration of  Mrs.  Lecount. 


302  NO   NAME. 

"  My  aunt  and  I  came  here  yesterday  evening,"  said  Magdalen. 
"  We  found  the  latter  part  of  the  journey  very  fatiguing.  I  dare 
say  you  found  it  so  too  ?" 

She  designedly  made  her  answer  longer  than  was  necessary,  for 
the  purpose  of  discovering,  at  the  earliest  opportunity,  the  effect 
which  the  sound  of  her  voice  produced  on  Mrs.  Lecount. 

The  housekeeper's  thin  lips  maintained  their  motherly  smile ;  the 
housekeeper's  amiable  manner  lost  none  of  its  modest  deference,  but 
the  expression  of  her  eyes  suddenly  changed  from  a  look  of  atten- 
tion to  a  look  of  inquiry.  Magdalen  quietly  said  a  few  words  more, 
and  then  waited  again  for  results.  The  change  spread  gradually 
all  over  Mrs.  Lecount's  face,  the  motherly  smile  died  away,  and  the 
amiable  manner  betrayed  a  slight  touch  of  restraint.  Still  no  signs 
of  positive  recognition  appeared ;  the  housekeeper's  expression  re- 
mained what  it  had  been  from  the  first — an  expression  of  inquiry, 
and  nothing  more. 

"  You  complained  of  fatigue,  sir,  a  few  minutes  since,"  she  said, 
dropping  all  further  conversation  with  Magdalen,  and  addressing 
her  master.     "  Will  you  go  indoors  and  rest  ?" 

The  proprietor  of  Sea- view  Cottage  had  hitherto  confined  himself 
to  bowing,  simpering,  and  admiring  Magdalen  through  his  half- 
closed  eyelids.  There  was  no  mistaking  the  sudden  flutter  and 
agitation  in  his  manner,  and  the  heightened  color  in  his  wizen  lit- 
tle face.  Even  the  reptile  temperament  of  Noel  Vanstone  warmed 
under  the  influence  of  the  sex :  he  had  an  undeniably  appreciative 
eye  for  a  handsome  woman,  and  Magdalen's  grace  and  beauty  were 
not  thrown  away  on  him. 

"Will  you  go  indoors,  sir,  and  rest?"  asked  the  housekeeper,  re- 
peating her  question. 

"Not  yet,  Lecount,"  said  her  master.  "I  fancy  I  feel  stronger; 
I  fancy  I  can  go  on  a  little."  He  turned  simpering  to  Magdalen, 
and  added,  in  a  lower  tone,  "  I  have  found  a  new  interest  in  my 
walk,  Miss  Bygrave.  Don't  desert  us,  or  you  will  take  the  interest 
away  with  you." 

He  smiled  and  smirked  in  the  highest  approval  of  the  ingenuity 
of  his  own  compliment — from  which  Captain  Wragge  dexterously 
diverted  the  housekeeper's  attention  by  ranging  himself  on  her  side 
of  the  path  and  speaking  to  her  at  the  same  moment.  They  all 
four  walked  on  slowly.  Mrs.  Lecount  said  nothing  more.  She 
kept  fast  hold  of  her  master's  arm,  and  looked  across  him  at  Mag- 
dalen with  the  dangerous  expression  of  inquiry  more  marked  than 
ever  in  her  handsome  black  eyes.  That  look  was  not  lost  on  the 
wary  Wragge.  He  shifted  his  indicative  camp-stool  from  the  left 
hand  to  the  right,  and  opened  his  scientific  batteries  on  the  spot. 

"  A  busy  scene,  Mrs.  Lecount,"  said  the  captain,  politely  waving 


NO   NAME.  303 

his  camp-stool  over  the  sea  and  the  passing  ships.  "  The  greatness 
of  England,  ma'am — the  true  greatness  of  England.  Pray  observe 
how  heavily  some  of  those  vessels  are  laden !  I  am  often  inclined 
to  wonder  whether  the  British  sailor  is  at  all  aware,  when  he  has 
got  his  cargo  on  board,  of  the  Hydrostatic  importance  of  the  opera- 
tion that  he  has  performed.  If  I  were  suddenly  transported  to  the 
deck  of  one  of  those  ships  (which  Heaven  forbid,  for  I  suffer  at 
sea) ;  and  if  I  said  to  a  member  of  the  crew,  '  Jack !  you  have  done 
wonders ;  you  have  grasped  the  Theory  of  Floating  Vessels ' — how 
the  gallant  fellow  would  stare  !  And  yet  on  that  theory  Jack's  life 
depends.  If  he  loads  his  vessel  one-thirtieth  part  more  than  he 
ought,  what  happens  ?  He  sails  past  Aldborough,  I  grant  you,  in 
safety.  He  enters  the  Thames,  I  grant  you  again,  in  safety.  He 
gets  on  into  the  fresh  water  as  far,  let  us  say,  as  Greenwich ;  and — 
down  he  goes  !  Down,  ma'am,  to  the  bottom  of  the  river,  as  a  mat- 
ter of  scientific  certainty !" 

Here  he  paused,  and  left  Mrs.  Lecount  no  polite  alternative  but 
to  request  an  explanation. 

"  With  infinite  pleasure,  ma'am,"  said  the  captain,  drowning  in 
the  deepest  notes  of  his  voice  the  feeble  treble  in  which  Noel  Van- 
stone  paid  his  compliments  to  Magdalen.  "  We  will  start,  if  you 
please,  with  a  first  principle.  All  bodies  whatever  that  float  on  the 
surface  of  the  water  displace  as  much  fluid  as  is  equal  in  weight  to 
the  weight  of  the  bodies.  Good.  We  have  got  our  first  principle. 
What  do  we  deduce  from  it  ?  Manifestly  this :  That,  in  order  to 
keep  a  vessel  above  water,  it  is  necessary  to  take  care  that  the  vessel 
and  its  cargo  shall  be  of  less  weight  than  the  weight  of  a  quantity 
of  water — pray  follow  me  here  ! — of  a  quantity  of  water  equal  in 
bulk  to  that  part  of  the  vessel  which  it  will  be  safe  to  immerse  in 
the  water.  Now,  ma'am,  salt-water  is  specifically  thirty  times  heav- 
ier than  fresh  or  river  water,  and  a  vessel  in  the  German  Ocean  will 
not  sink  so  deep  as  a  vessel  in  the  Thames.  Consequently,  when 
we  load  our  ship  with  a  view  to  the  London  market,  we  have  (Hy- 
drostatically  speaking)  three  alternatives.  Either  we  load  with 
one-thirtieth  part  less  than  we  can  carry  at  sea;  or  we  take  one- 
thirtieth  part  out  at  the  mouth  of  the  river;  or  we  do  neither  the 
one  nor  the  other,  and,  as  I  have  already  had  the  honor  of  remark- 
ing— down  we  go !  Such,"  said  the  captain,  shifting  the  camp- 
stool  back  again  from  his  right  hand  to  his  left,  in  token  that  Joyce 
was  done  with  for  the  time  being ;  "  such,  my  dear  madam,  is  the 
Theory  of  Floating  Vessels.  Permit  me  to  add,  in  conclusion,  you 
are  heartily  welcome  to  it." 

"  Thank  you,  sir,"  said  Mrs.  Lecount.  "  You  have  unintention- 
ally saddened  me ;  but  the  information  I  have  received  is  not  the 
iess  precious  on  that  account,     It  is  long,  long  ago,  Mr.  Bygrave, 


304  NO   NAME. 

since  I  have  beard  myself  addressed  in  the  language  of  science.  My 
dear  husband  made  me  his  companion — my  dear  husband  improved 
my  mind  as  you  have  been  trying  to  improve  it.  Nobody  has  taken 
pains  with  my  intellect  since.  Many  thanks,  sir.  Your  kind  con- 
sideration for  me  is  not  thrown  away." 

She  sighed  with  a  plaintive  humility,  and  privately  opened  her 
ears  to  the  conversation  on  the  other  side  of  her. 

A  minute  earlier  she  would  have  heard  her  master  expressing 
himself  in  the  most  flattering  terms  on  the  subject  of  Miss  Bygrave's 
appearance  in  her  sea-side  costume.  But  Magdalen  had  seen  Cap- 
tain Wragge's  signal  with  the  camp-stool,  and  had  at  once  diverted 
Noel  Vanstone  to  the  topic  of  himself  and  his  possessions  by  a  neat- 
ly-timed question  about  his  house  at  Aldborough. 

"  I  don't  wish  to  alarm  you,  Miss  Bygrave,"  were  the  first  words 
of  Noel  Vanstone's  which  caught  Mrs.  Lecount's  attention,  "  but 
there  is  only  one  safe  house  in  Aldborough,  and  that  house  is  Mine. 
The  sea  may  destroy  all  the  other  houses  —  it  can't  destroy  Mine. 
My  father  took  care  of  that ;  my  father  was  a  remarkable  man.  He 
had  My  house  built  on  piles.  I  have  reason  to  believe  they  are  the 
strongest  piles  in  England.  Nothing  can  possibly  knock  them 
down — I  don't  care  what  the  sea  does — nothing  can(  possibly  knock 
them  down." 

"  Then,  if  the  sea  invades  us,"  said  Magdalen,  "  we  must  all  run 
for  refuge  to  you." 

Noel  Vanstone  saw  his  way  to  another  compliment ;  and,  at  the 
same  moment,  the  wary  captain  saw  his  way  to  another  burst  of 
science. 

"  I  could  almost  wish  the  invasion  might  happen,"  murmured  one 
of  the  gentlemen,  "  to  give  me  the  happiness  of  offering  the  refuge." 

"  I  could  almost  swear  the  wind  had  shifted  again !"  exclaimed 
the  other.  "  "Where  is  a  man  I  can  ask  ?  Oh,  there  he  is.  Boat- 
man !  How's  the  wind  now  ?  Nor'-west  and  by  west  still— hey  ? 
And  south-east  and  by  south  yesterday  evening — ha  ?  Is  there  any 
thing  more  remarkable,  Mrs.  Lecount,  than  the  variableness  of  the 
wind  in  this  climate  ?"  proceeded  the  captain,  shifting  the  camp- 
stool  to  the  scientific  side  of  him.  "  Is  there  any  natural  phenome- 
non more  bewildering  to  the  scientific  inquirer  ?  You  will  tell  me 
that  the  electric  fluid  which  abounds  in  the  air  is  the  principal 
cause  of  this  variableness.  You  will  remind  me  of  the  experiment 
of  that  illustrious  philosopher  who  measured  the  velocity  of  a  great 
storm  by  a  flight  of  small  feathers.  My  dear  madam,  I  grant  all 
your  propositions — " 

"I  beg  your  pardon,  sir,"  said  Mrs.  Lecount;  "you  kindly  at- 
tribute to  me  a  knowledge  that  I  don't  possess.  Propositions,  I  re- 
gret to  say,  are  quite  beyond  me." 


NO    NAME.  ,  305 

"Don't  misunderstand  me;  ma'am,"  continued  the  captain,  polite- 
ly unconscious  of  the  interruption.  "My  remarks  apply  to  the 
temperate  zone  only.  Place  me  on  the  coasts  beyond  the  tropics — 
place  me  where  the  wind  blows  toward  the  shore  in  the  day-time, 
and  toward  the  sea  by  night — and  I  instantly  advance  toward  con- 
clusive experiments.  For  example,  I  know  that  the  heat  of  the  sun 
during  the  day  rarefies  the  air  over  the  land,  and  so  causes  the  wind. 
You  challenge  me  to  prove  it.  I  escort  you  down  the  kitchen  stairs 
(with  your  kind  permission) ;  I  take  my  largest  pie-dish  out  of  the 
cook's  hands ;  I  fill  it  with  cold  water.  Good !  that  dish  of  cold 
water  represents  the  ocean.  I  next  provide  myself  with  one  of  our 
most  precious  domestic  conveniences,  a  hot-water  plate ;  I  fill  it 
with  hot  water,  and  I  put  it  in  the  middle  of  the  pie-dish.  Good 
again  !  the  hot-water  plate  represents  the  land  rarefying  the  air  over 
it.  Bear  that  in  mind,  and  give  me  a  lighted  candle.  I  hold  my 
lighted  candle  over  the  cold  water, 'and  blow  it  out.  The  smoke 
immediately  moves  from  the  dish  to  the  plate.  Before  you  have 
time  to  express  your  satisfaction,  I  light  the  candle  once  more,  and 
reverse  the  whole  proceeding.  I  fill  the  pie-dish  with  hot  water, 
and  the  plate  with  cold ;  I  blow  the  candle  out  again,  and  the 
smoke  moves  this  time  from  the  plate  to  the  dish.  The  smell  is 
disagreeable — but  the  experiment  is  conclusive." 

He  shifted  the  camp-stool  back  again,  and  looked  at  Mrs.  Lecount 
with  his  ingratiating  smile.  "  You  don't  find  me  long-winded, 
ma'am  —  do  you?"  he  said,  in  his  easy,  cheerful  way,  just  as  the 
housekeeper  was  privately  opening  her  ears  once  more  to  the  con- 
versation on  the  other  side  of  her.  , 

"  I  am  amazed,  sir,  by  the  range  of  your  information,"  replied 
Mrs.  Lecount,  observing  the  captain  with  some  perjfiexity — but  thus 
far  with  no  distrust.  She  thought  him  eccentric,  even  for  an  En- 
glishman, and  possibly  a  little  vain  of  his  knowledge.  But  he  had 
at  least  paid  her  the  implied  compliment  of  addressing  that  knowl- 
edge to  herself;  and  she  felt  it  the  more  sensibly,  from  having 
hitherto  found  her  scientific  sympathies  with  her  deceased  husband 
treated  with  no  great  respect  by  the  people  with  whom  she  cauW  in 
contact.  "  Have  you  extended  your  inquiries,  sir,"  she  proceeded, 
after  a  momentary  hesitation,  "  to  my  late  husband's  branch  of 
science?  I  merely  ask,  Mr.  Bygrave,  because  (though  I  am  only  a 
woman)  I  think  I  might  exchange  ideas  with  you  on  the  subject  of 
the  reptile  creation." 

Captain  Wragge  was  far  too  sharp  to  risk  his  ready-made  science 
on  the  enemy's  ground.     The  old  militia-man  shook  his  wary  head. 

"  Too  vast  a  subject,  ma'am,"  he  said,  "  for  a  smatterer  like  me. 
The  life  and  labors  of  such  a  philosopher  as  your  husband,  Mrs.  Le- 
count, warn  men  of  my  intellectual  calibre  not  to  measure  themselves 


306  NO   NAME. 

with  a  giant.  May  I  inquire,"  proceeded  the  captain,  softly  smooth 
ing  the  way  for  future  intercourse  with  Sea- view  Cottage,  "  wheth- 
er you  possess  any  scientific  memorials  of  the  late  Professor  ?" 

"  I  possess  his  Tank,  sir,"  said  Mrs.  Lecount,  modestly  casting  her 
eyes  on  the  ground,  "  and  one  of  his  Subjects — a  little  foreign  Toad." 

"  His  Tank  !"  exclaimed  the  captain,  in  tones  of  mournful  inter- 
est ;  "  and  his  Toad !  Pardon  my  blunt  way  of  speaking  my  mind, 
ma'am.  You  possess  an  object  of  public  interest ;  and,  as  one  of  the 
public,  I  acknowledge  my  curiosity  to  see  it." 

Mrs.  Lecount's  smooth  cheeks  colored  with  pleasure.  The  one  as- 
sailable place  in  that  cold  and  secret  nature  was  the  place  occupied 
by  the  memory  of  the  Professor.  Her  pride  in  his  scientific  achieve- 
ments, and  her  mortification  at  finding  them  but  little  known  out 
of  his  own  country,  were  genuine  feelings.  Never  had  Captain 
Wragge  burned  his  adulterated  incense  on  the  flimsy  altar  of  human 
vanity  to  better  purpose  than  he  was  burning  it  now. 

"  You  are  very  good,  sir,"  said  Mrs.  Lecount.  "  In  honoring  my 
husband's  memory,  you  honor  me.  But  though  you  kindly  treat  me 
on  a  footing  of  equality,  I  must  not  forget  that  I  fill  a  domestic  situ- 
ation. I  shall  feel  it  a  privilege  to  show  you  my  relics,  if  you  will 
allow  me  to  ask  my  master's  permission  first." 

She  turned  to  Noel  Vanstone ;  her  perfectly  sincere  intention  of 
making  the  proposed  request,  mingling — in  that  strange  complexity 
of  motives  which  is  found  so  much  oftener  in  a  woman's  mind  than 
in  a  man's — with  her  jealous  distrust  of  the  impression  which  Mag- 
dalen had  produced  on  her  master. 

"  May  I  make  a  request,  sir  ?"  asked  Mrs.  Lecount,  after  waiting  a 
moment  to  catch  any  fragments  of  tenderly-personal  talk  that  might 
reach  her,  and  after  being  again  neatly  baffled  by  Magdalen — thanks 
to  the  camp-stool.  "  Mr.  Bygrave  is  one  of  the  few  persons  in  En- 
gland who  appreciate  my  husband's  scientific  labors.  He  honors 
me  by  wishing  to  see  my  little  world  of  reptiles.  May  I  show  it  to 
him?" 

"  By  all  means,  Lecount,"  said  Noel  Vanstone,  graciously.  "  You 
are  an  excellent  creature,  and  I  like  to  oblige  you.  Lecount's  Tank, 
Mr.  Bygrave,  is  the  only  Tank  in  England — Lecount's  Toad  is  the 
oldest  Toad  in  the  world.  Will  you  come  and  drink  tea  at  seven 
o'clock  to-night  ?  And  will  you  prevail  on  Miss  Bygrave  to  accom- 
pany you  ?  I  want  her  to  see  my  house.  I  don't  think  she  has  any 
idea  what  a  strong  house  it  is.  Come  and  survey  my  premises,  Miss 
Bygrave.  You  shall  have  a  stick,  and  rap  on  the  walls ;  you  shall 
go  up  stairs  and  stamp  on  the  floors,  and  then  you  shall  hear  what 
it  all  cost."  His  eyes  wrinkled  up  cunningly  at  the  corners,  and  he 
slipped  another  tender  speech  into  Magdalen's  ear,  under  cover  of 
the  all-predominating  voice  in  which  Captain  Wragge  thanked  him 


NO    NAME.  307 

for  the  invitation.    "  Come  punctually  at  seven,"  lie  whispered,  "and 
pray  wear  that  charming  hat  1" 

Mrs.  Lecount's  lips  closed  ominously.  She  set  down  the  captain's 
niece  as  a  very  serious  drawback  to  the  intellectual  luxury  of  the 
captain's  society. 

"  You  are  fatiguing  yourself,  sir,"  she  said  to  her  master.  "  This 
is  one  of  your  bad  days.  Let  me  recommend  you  to  be  careful ;  let 
me  beg  you  to  walk  back." 

Having  carried  his  point  by  inviting  the  new  acquaintances  to 
tea,  Noel  Vanstone  proved  to  be  unexpectedly  docile.  He  acknowl- 
edged that  he  was  a  little  fatigued,  and  turned  back  at  once  in  obe- 
dience to  the  housekeeper's  advice. 

"  Take  my  arm,  sir — take  my  arm  on  the  other  side,"  said  Captain 
Wragge,  as  they  turned  to  retrace  their  steps.  His  party-colored 
eyes  looked  significantly  at  Magdalen  while  he  spoke,  and  warned 
her  not  to  stretch  Mrs.  Lecount's  endurance  too  far  at  starting.  She 
instantly  understood  him ;  and,  in  spite  of  Noel  Vanstone's  reiterated 
assertions  that  he  stood  in  no  need  of  the  captain's  arm,  placed  her- 
self at  once  by  the  housekeeper's  side.  Mrs.  Lecount  recovered  her 
good -humor,  and  opened  another  conversation  with  Magdalen  by 
making  the  one  inquiry  of  all  others  which,  under  existing  circum- 
stances, was  the  hardest  to  answer. 

"I  presume  Mrs.  Bygrave  is  too  tired,  after  her  journey,  to  come 
out  to-day  ?"  said  Mrs.  Lecount.  "  Shall  we  have  the  pleasure  of 
seeing  her  to-morrow  ?" 

"Probably  not,"  replied  Magdalen.  "My  aunt  is  in  delicate 
health." 

"  A  complicated  case,  my  dear  madam,"  added  the  captain  ;  con- 
scious that  Mrs.  Wragge's  personal  appearance  (if  she  happened  to 
be  seen  by  accident)  would  offer  the  flattest  of  all  possible  contra- 
dictions to  what  Magdalen  had  just  said  of  her.  "  There  is  some  re- 
mote nervous  mischief  which  doesn't  express  itself  externally.  You 
would  think  my  wife  the  picture  of  health  if  you  looked  at  her,  and 
yet,  so  delusive  are  appearances,  I  am  obliged  to  forbid  her  all  ex- 
citement. She  sees  no  society — our  medical  attendant,  I  regret  to 
say,  absolutely  prohibits  it." 

"  Very  sad,"  said  Mrs.  Lecount.  "  The  poor  lady  must  often  feel 
lonely,  sir,  when  you  and  your  niece  are  away  from  her  ?" 

"  No,"  replied  the  captain.  "  Mrs.  Bygrave  is  a  naturally  domes- 
tic woman.  When  she  is  able  to  employ  herself,  she  finds  unlimited 
resources  in  her  needle  and  thread."  Having  reached  this  stage  of 
the  explanation,  and  having  purposely  skirted,  as  it  were,  round  th? 
confines  of  truth,  in  the  event  of  the  housekeeper's  curiosity  leadii£ 
her  co  make  any  private  inquiries  on  the  subject  of  Mrs.  Wragge, 
the  captain  wisely  checked  his  fluent  tongue  from  carrying  him  into 


308  NO  NAME. 

any  further  details.  "I  have  great  hope  from  the  air  of  this  place," 
he  remarked,  in  conclusion.  "  The  Iodine,  as  I  have  already  ob- 
served, does  wonders." 

Mrs.  Lecount  acknowledged  the  virtues  of  Iodine,  in  the  briefest 
possible  form  of  words,  and  withdrew  into  the  innermost  sanctuary 
of  her  own  thoughts.  "  Some  mystery  here,"  oaid  the  housekeeper 
to  herself.  "  A  lady  who  looks  the  picture  of  health  ;  a  lady  who 
suffers  from  a  complicated  nervous  malady  ;  and  a  lady  whose  hand 
is  steady  enough  to  use  her  needle  and  thread — is  a  living  mass  of 
contradictions  I  don't  quite  understand.  Do  you  make  a  long  stay 
at  Aldborough,  sir  ?"  she  added  aloud,  her  eyes  resting  for  a  moment, 
in  steady  scrutiny,  on  the  captain's  face. 

"It  all  depends,  my  dear  madam,  on  Mrs.  Bygrave.  I  trust  we 
shall  stay  through  the  autumn.  You  are  settled  at  Sea-view  Cot- 
tage, I  presume,  for  the  season  ?" 

"  You  must  ask  my  master,  sir.    It  is  for  him  to  decide,  not  for  me." 

The  answer  was  an  unfortunate  one.  Noel  Vanstone  had  been 
secretly  annoyed  by  the  change  in  the  walking  arrangements,  which 
had  separated  him  from  Magdalen.  He  attributed  that  change  to 
the  meddling  influence  of  Mrs.  Lecount,  and  he  now  took  the  ear- 
liest opportunity  of  resenting  it  on  the  spot. 

"  I  have  nothing  to  do  with  our  stay  at  Aldborough,"  he  broke 
out,  peevishly.  "  You  know  as  well  as  I  do,  Lecount,  it  all  depends 
on  you.  Mrs.  Lecount  has  a  brother  in  Switzerland,"  he  went  on, 
addressing  himself  to  the  captain — "  a  brother  who  is  seriously  ill. 
If  he  gets  worse,  she  will  have  to  go  there  and  see  him.  I  can't  ac- 
company her,  and  I  can't  be  left  in  the  house  by  myself.  I  shall 
have  to  break  up  my  establishment  at  Aldborough,  and  stay  with 
some  friends.  It  all  depends  on  you,  Lecount — or  on  your  brother, 
which  comes  to  the  same  thing.  If  it  depended  on  me,"  continued 
Mr.  Noel  Vanstone,  looking  pointedly  at  Magdalen  across  the  house- 
keeper, "  I  should  stay  at  Aldborough  all  through  the  autumn  with 
the  greatest  pleasure.  With  the  greatest  pleasure,"  he  reiterated, 
repeating  the  words  with  a  tender  look  for  Magdalen,  and  a  spite- 
ful accent  for  Mrs.  Lecount. 

Thus  far  Captain  Wragge  had  remained  silent;  carefully  noting 
in  his  mind  the  promising  possibilities  of  a  separation  between  Mrs. 
Lecount  and  her  master,  which  Noel  Vanstone's  little  fretful  out- 
break had  just  disclosed  to  him.  An  ominous  trembling  in  the 
housekeeper's  thin  lips,  as  her  master  openly  exposed  her  family 
affairs  before  strangers,  and  openly  set  her  jealously  at  defiance,  now 
warned  him  to  interfere.  If  the  misunderstanding  were  permitted 
to  proceed  to  extremities,  there  was  a  chance  that  the  invitation  for 
that  evening  to  Sea-view  Cottage  might  be  put  off.  Now,  as  ever, 
equal  to  the  occasion,  Captain  Wragge  called  his  useful  information 


NO    NAMK.  309 

once  more  to  the  rescue.  Under  the  learned  auspices  of  Joyce,  he 
plunged,  for  the  third  time,  into  the  ocean  of  science,  and  brought 
up  another  pearl.  He  was  still  haranguing  (on  Pneumatics  this 
time),  still  improving  Mrs.  Lecount's  mind  with  his  politest  per- 
severance and  his  smoothest  flow  of  language — when  the  walking- 
party  stopped  at  Noel  Vanstone's  door. 

"  Bless  my  soul,  here  we  are  at  your  house,  sir  !•"  said  the  captain, 
interrupting  himself  in  the  middle  of  one  of  his  graphic  sentences. 
"  I  won't  keep  you  standing  a  moment.  Not  a  word  of  apology, 
Mrs.  Lecount,  I  beg  and  pray!  I  will  put  that  curious  point  in 
Pneumatics  more  clearly  before  you  on  a  future  occasion.  In  the 
mean  time  I  need  only  repeat  that  you  can  perform  the  experiment 
I  have  just  mentioned  to  your  own  entire  satisfaction  with  a  blad- 
der, an  exhausted  receiver,  and  a  square  box.  At  seven  o'clock 
this  evening,  sir — at  seven  o'clock,  Mrs.  Lecount.  We  have  had  a 
remarkably  pleasant  walk,  and  a  most  instructive  interchange  of 
ideas.     Now,  my  dear  girl,  your  aunt  is  waiting  for  us." 

While  Mrs.  Lecount  stepped  aside  to  open  the  garden  gate,  Noel 
Vanstone  seized  his  opportunity  and  shot  a  last  tender  glance  at 
Magdalen,  under  shelter  of  the  umbrella,  which  he  had  taken  into 
his  own  hands  for  that  express  purpose.  "  Don't  forget,"  he  said, 
with  the  sweetest  smile ;  "  don't  forget,  when  you  come  this  even- 
ing, to  wear  that  charming  hat!"  Before  he  could  add  any  last 
words,  Mrs.  Lecount  glided  back  to  her  place,  and  the  sheltering 
umbrella  changed  hands  again  immediately. 

"An  excellent  morning's  work !"  said  Captain  Wragge,  as  he  and 
Magdalen  walked  on  together  to  North  Shingles.  "  You  and  I  and 
Joyce  have  all  three  done  wonders.  We  have  secured  a  friendly  in- 
vitation at  the  first  day's  fishing  for  it." 

He  paused  for  an  answer ;  and,  receiving  none,  observed  Mag- 
dalen more  attentively  than  he  had  observed  her  yet.  Her  face  had 
turned  deadly  pale  again ;  her  eyes  looked  out  mechanically  straight 
before  her  in  heedless,  reckless  despair. 

"  What  is  the  matter  ?"  he  asked,  with  the  greatest  surprise. 
"  Are  you  ill  ?" 

She  made  no  reply  ;  she  hardly  seemed  to  hear  him. 

"  Are  you  getting  alarmed  about  Mrs.  Lecount  ?"  he  inquired  next. 
"  There  is  not  the  least  reason  for  alarm.  She  may  fancy  she  has 
heard  something  like  your  voice  before,  but  your  face  evidently 
bewilders  her.  Keep  your  temper,  and  you  keep  her  in  the  dark. 
Keep  her  in  the  dark,  and  you  will  put  that  two  hundred  pounds 
into  my  hands  before  the  autumn  is  over." 

He  waited  again  for  an  answer,  and  again  she  remained  silent. 
The  captain  tried  for  the  third  time  in  another  direction. 

"Did  you  get  any  letters  this  morning?"  he  went  on.     "Is  there 


310  NO   NAME. 

bad  news  again  from  home  ?  Any  fresh  difficulties  with  youi 
sister  ?" 

"  Say  nothing  about  my  sister !"  she  broke  out  passionately. 
"Neither  you  nor  I  are  fit  to  speak  of  her." 

She  said  those  words  at  the  garden  gate,  and  hurried  into  the 
house  by  herself.  He  followed  her,  and  heard  the  door  of  her  own 
room  violently  shut  to,  violently  locked  and  double-locked.  Sola- 
cing his  indignation  by  an  oath,  Captain  Wragge  sullenly  went  into 
one  of  the  parlors  on  the  ground-floor  to  look  after  his  wife.  The 
room  communicated  with  a  smaller  and  darker  room  at  the  back  of 
the  house  by  means  of  a  quaint  little  door  with  a  window  in  the  up 
per  half  of  it.  Softly  approaching  this  door,  the  captain  lifted  the 
white  muslin  curtain  which  hung  over  the  window,  and  looked  into 
the  inner  room. 

There  was  Mrs.  Wragge,  with  her  caj>  on  one  side,  and  her  shoes 
down  at  heel ;  with  a  row  of  pins  between  her  teeth  ;  with  the  Ori- 
ental Cashmere  Robe  slowly  slipping  off  the  table ;  with  her  scissors 
suspended  uncertain  in  one  hand,  and  her  written  directions  for 
dress-making  held  doubtfully  in  the  other — so  absorbed  over  the 
invincible  difficulties  of  her  employment  as  to  be  perfectly  uncon- 
scious that  she  was  at  that  moment  the  object  of  her  husband's 
superintending  eye.  Under  other  circumstances,  she  would  have 
been  soon  brought  to  a  sense  of  her  situation  by  the  sound  of  his 
voice.  But  Captain  Wragge  was  too  anxious  about  Magdalen  to 
waste  any  time  on  his  wife,  after  satisfying  himself  that  she  was  safe 
in  her  seclusion,  and  that  she  might  be  trusted  to  remain  there. 

He  left  the  parlor,  and,  after  a  little  hesitation  in  the  passage, 
stole  up  stairs  and  bstened  anxiously  outside  Magdalen's  door.  A 
dull  sound  of  sobbing — a  sound  stifled  in  her  handkerchief,  or  sti- 
fled in  the  bed-clothes — was  all  that  caught  his  ear.  He  returned 
at  once  to  the  ground-floor,  with  some  faint  suspicion  of  the  truth 
dawning  on  his  mind  at  last. 

"  The  devil  take  that  sweetheart  of  hers !"  thought  the  captain. 
"  Mr.  Noel  Vanstone  has  raised  the  ghost  of  him  at  starting." 


CHAPTER  V. 

When  Magdalen  appeared  in  the  parlor  shortly  before  seven 
o'clock,  not  a  trace  of  discomposure  was  visible  in  her  manner. 
She  looked  and  spoke  as  quietly  and  unconcernedly  as  usuaL 

The  lowering  distrust  on  Captain  Wragge's  face  cleared  away  at 
the  sight  of  her.  There  had  been  moments  during  the  afternoon 
when  he  had  seriously  doubted  whether  the  pleasure  of  satisfying 


NO    NAME.  .    311 

the  grudge  he  owed  to  Noel  Vanstone,  and  the  prospect  of  earning 
the  sum  of  two  hundred  pounds,  would  not  be  dearly  purchased  by 
running  the  risk  of  discovery  to  which  Magdalen's  uncertain  temper 
might  expose  him  at  any  hour  of  the  day.  The  plain  proof  now 
before  him  of  her  powers  of  self-control  relieved  his  mind  of  a  se- 
rious anxiety.  It  mattered  little  to  the  captain  what  she  suffered 
in  the  privacy  of  her  own  chamber,  as  long  as  she  came  out  of  it 
with  a  face  that  would  bear  inspection,  and  a  voice  that  betrayed 
nothing. 

On  the  way  to  Sea-view  Cottage,  Captain  Wragge  expressed  his 
intention  of  asking  the  housekeeper  a  few  sympathizing  questions 
on  the  subject  of  her  invalid  brother  in  Switzerland.  He  was  of 
ojfinion  that  the  critical  condition  of  this  gentleman's  health  might 
exercise  an  important  influence  on  the  future  jn'ogress  of  the  con- 
spiracy. Any  chance  of  a  separation,  he  remarked,  between  the 
housekeeper  and  her  master  was,  under  existing  circumstances,  a 
chance  which  merited  the  closest  investigation.  "  If  we  can  only 
get  Mrs.  Lecount  out  of  the  way  at  the  right  time,"  whispered  the 
captain,  as  he  opened  his  host's  garden  gate,  "  our  man  is  caught !" 

In  a  minute  more  Magdalen  was  again  under  Noel  Vanstone's 
roof;  this  time  in  the  character  of  his  own  invited  guest. 

The  proceedings  of  the  evening  were  for  the  most  part  a  repeti- 
tion of  the  proceedings  during  the  morning  walk.  Noel  Yaustone 
vibrated  between  his  admiration  of  Magdalen's  beauty  and  his  glo- 
rification of  his  own  possessions.  Captain  Wragge's  inexhaustible 
outbursts  of  -  information  —  relieved  by  delicately-indirect  inquiries 
relating  to  Mrs.  Lecount's  brother — perpetually  diverted  the  house- 
keeper's jealous  vigilance  from  dwelling  on  the  looks  and  language 
of  her  master.  So  the  evening  passed  until  ten  o'clock.  By  that 
time  the  captain's  ready-made  science  was  exhausted,  and  the  house- 
keeper's temper  was  forcing  its  way  to  the  surface.  Once  more  Cap- 
tain Wragge  warned  Magdalen  by  a  look,  and,  in  spite  of  Noel  Van- 
stone's  hospitable  protest,  wisely  rose  to  say  good-night. 

"  I  have  got  my  information,"  remarked  the  captain  on  the  way 
back.  "Mrs.  Lecount's  brother  lives  at  Zurich.  He  is  a  bachelor; 
he  possesses  a  little  money,  and  his  sister  is  his  nearest  relation.  If 
he  will  only  be  so  obliging  as  to  break  up  altogether,  he  will  save 
us  a  world  of  trouble  with  Mrs.  Lecount." 

It  was  a  fine  moonlight  night.  He  looked  round  at  Magdalen,  as 
he  said  those  words,  to  see  if  her  intractable  depression  of  spirits 
had  seized  on  her  again. 

No !  her  variable  humor  had  changed  once  more.  She  looked 
about  her  with  a  flaunting,  feverish  gayety ;  she  scoffed  at  the  bare 
idea  of  any  serious  difficulty  with  Mrs.  Lecount ;  she  mimicked  Noel 
Vanstone's  high-pitched  voice,  and  repeated  Noel  Vanstone's  high- 


312  NO   NAME. 

flown  compliments,  with  a  bitter  enjoyment  of  turning  him  into  via 
icule.  Instead  of  running  into  the  house  as  before,  she  sauntered 
carelessly  by  her  companion's  side,  humming  little  snatches  ot  song, 
and  kicking  the  loose  pebbles  right  and  left  on  the  garden  walk. 
Captain  Wragge  hailed  the  change  in  her  as  the  best  of  good  omens. 
He  thought  he  saw  plain  signs  that  the  family  spirit  was  at  last 
coming  back  again. 

"  Well,"  he  said,  as  he  lit  her  bedroom  candle  for  her,  "  when  we 
all  meet  on  the  Parade  to-morrow,  we  shall  see,  as  our  nautical 
friends  say,  how  the  land  lies.  One  thing  I  can  tell  you,  my  dear 
girl  —  I  have  used  my  eyes  to  very  little  purpose  if  there  is  not  a 
storm  brewing  to-night  in  Mr.  Noel  Vanstone's  domestic  atmos- 
phere." 

The  captain's  habitual  penetration  had  not  misled  him.  As  soon 
as  the  door  of  Sea-view  Cottage  was  closed  on  the  parting  guests, 
Mrs.  Lecount  made  an  effort  to  assert  the  authority  which  Magda- 
len's influence  was  threatening  already. 

She  employed  every  artifice  of  which  she  was  mistress  to  ascer- 
tain Magdalen's  true  position  in  Noel  Vanstone's  estimation.  She 
tried  again  and  again  to  lure  him  into  an  unconscious  confession  of 
the  pleasure  which  he  felt  already  in  the  society  of  the  beautiful 
Miss  Bygrave ;  she  twined  herself  in  and  out  of  every  weakness  in 
his  character,  as  the  frogs  and  efts  twined  themselves  in  and  out 
of  the  rock-work  of  her  Aquarium.  But  she  made  one  serious  mis- 
take which  very  clever  people  in  their  intercourse  with  their  intel- 
lectual inferiors  are  almost  universally  apt  to  commit — she  trusted 
implicitly  to  the  folly  of  a  fool.  She  forgot  that  one  of  the  lowest 
of  human  qualities — cunning — is  exactly  the  capacity  which  is  often 
most  largely  developed  in  the  lowest  of  intellectual  natures.  If  she 
had  been  honestly  angry  with  her  master,  she  would  probably  have 
frightened  him.  If  she  had  opened  her  mind  plainly  to  his  view, 
she  would  have  astonished  him  by  presenting  a  chain  of  ideas  to 
his  limited  perceptions  which  they  were  not  strong  enough  to  grasp ; 
nis  curiosity  would  have  led  him  to  ask  for  an  explanation;  and 
by  practicing  on  that  curiosity,  she  might  have  had  him  at  her  mer- 
cy. As  it  was,  she  set  her  cunning  against  his,  and  the  fool  proved 
a  match  for  her.  Noel  Vanstone,  to  whom  all  large-minded  mo- 
tives under  heaven  were  inscrutable  mysteries,  saw  the  small-mind- 
ed motive  at  the  bottom  of  his  housekeeper's  conduct  with  as  in- 
stantaneous a  penetration  as  if  he  had  been  a  man  of  the  highest 
ability.  Mrs.  Lecount  left  him  for  the  night,  foiled,  and  knowing 
she  was  foiled — left  him,  with  the  tigerish  side  of  her  uppermost, 
and  a  low-lived  longing  in  her  elegant  finger-nails  to  set  them  in 
her  master's  face. 

She  was  not  a  woman  to  be  beaten  by  one  defeat  or  by  a  huiv 


NO   NAME.  313 

dred.  She  was  positively  determined  to  think,  and  think  again, 
until  she  had  found  a  means  of  checking  the  growing  intimacy 
with  the  Bygraves  at  once  and  forever.  In  the  solitude  of  her  own 
room  she  recovered  her  composure,  and  set  herself  for  the  hist  time 
to  review  the  conclusions  which  she  had  gathered  from  the  events 
of  the  day. 

There  was  something  vaguely  familiar  to  her  in  the  voice  of  this 
Miss  Bygrave,  and,  at  the  same  time,  in  unaccountable  contradiction, 
something  strange  to  her  as  well.  The  face  and  figure  of  the  young 
lady  were  entirely  new  to  her.  It  was  a  striking  face,  and  a  strik- 
ing figure ;  and  if  she  had  seen  either  at  any  former  period,  she 
would  certainly  have  remembered  it.  Miss  Bygrave  was  unques- 
tionably a  stranger ;  and  yet — 

She  had  got  no  further  than  this  during  the  day ;  she  could  get 
no  further  now:  the  chain  of  thought  broke.  Her  mind  took  up 
the  fragments,  and  formed  another  chain  which  attached  itself  to 
the  lady  who  was  kept  in  seclusion— to  the  aunt,  who  looked  well, 
and  yet  was  nervous ;  who  was  nervous,  and  yet  able  to  ply  her 
needle  and  thread.  An  incomprehensible  resemblance  to  some  un- 
remembered  voice  in  the  niece ;  an  unintelligible  malady  which  kept 
the  aunt  secluded  from  public  view  ;  an  extraordinary  range  of  sci- 
entific cultivation  in  the  uncle,  associated  with  a  coarseness  and 
audacity  of  manner  which  by  no  means  suggested  the  idea  of  a 
man  engaged  in  studious  pursuits — were  the  members  of  this  small 
family  of  three,  what  they  seemed  on  the  surface  of  them? 

With  that  question  on  her  mind,  she  went  to  bed. 

As  soon  as  the  candle  was  out,  the  darkness  seemed  to  communi- 
cate some  inexplicable  perversity  to  her  thoughts.  They  wandered 
back  from  present  things  to  past,  in  spite  of  her.  They  brought  her 
old  master  back  to  life  again ;  they  revived  forgotten  sayings  and 
doings  in  the  English  circle  at  Zurich ;  they  veered  away  to  the  old 
man's  death-bed  at  Brighton;  they  moved  from  Brighton  to  Lon- 
don ;  they  entered  the  bare,  comfortless  room  at  Vauxhall  Walk ; 
they  set  the  Aquarium  back  in  its  place  on  the  kitchen  table,  and 
put  the  false  Miss  Garth  in  the  chair  by  the  side  of  it,  shading  her 
inflamed  eyes  from  the  light ;  they  placed  the  anonymous  letter,  the 
letter  which  glanced  darkly  at  a  conspiracy,  in  her  hand  again,  and 
brought  her  with  it  into  her  master's  presence ;  they  recalled  the 
discussion  about  filling  in  the  blank  space  in  the  advertisement, 
and  the  quarrel  that  followed  when  she  told  Noel  Vanstone  that 
the  sum  he  had  offered  was  preposterously  small ;  they  revived  an 
old  doubt  which  had  not  troubled  her  for  weeks  past  —  a  doubt 
whether  the  threatened  conspiracy  had  evaporated  in  mere  words, 
or  whether  she  and  her  master  were  likely  to  hear  of  it  again.  At 
this  point  her  thoughts  broke  off  once  more,  and  there  was  a  mo- 


314  NO   NAME. 

mentary  blank.  The  next  instant  she  started  up  in  bed ;  her  heart 
beating  violently,  her  head  whirling  as  if  she  had  lost  her  senses. 
With  electric  suddenness  her  mind  pieced  together  its  scattered 
multitude  of  thoughts,  and  put  them  before  her  plainly  under  one 
intelligible  form.  In  the  all -mastering  agitation  of  the  moment, 
she  clapped  her  hands  together,  and  cried  out  suddenly  in  the 
darkness, 

"  Miss  Vanstone  again  ! ! !" 

She  got  out  of  bed  and  kindled  the  light  once  more.  Steady  as 
her  nerves  were,  the  shock  of  her  own  suspicion  had  shaken  them. 
Her  firm  hand  trembled  as  she  opened  her  dressing-case  and  took 
from  it  a  little  bottle  of  sal-volatile.  In  spite  of  her  smooth  cheeks 
and  her  well-preserved  hair,  she  looked  every  year  of  her  age  as  she 
mixed  the  spirit  with  water,  greedily  drank  it,  and,  wrapping  her 
dressing-gown  round  her,  sat  down  on  the  bedside  to  get  possession 
again  of  her  calmer  self. 

She  was  quite  incapable  of  tracing  the  mental  process  which  had 
led  her  to  discovery.  She  could  not  get  sufficiently  far  from  herself 
to  see  that  her  half-formed  conclusions  on  the  subject  of  the  By- 
graves  had  ended  in  making  that  family  objects  of  suspicion  to  her; 
that  the  association  of  ideas  had  thereupon  carried  her  mind  back 
to  that  other  object  of  suspicion  which  was  represented  by  the  con- 
spiracy against  her  master ;  and  that  the  two  ideas  of  those  two 
separate  subjects  of  distrust,  coming  suddenly  in  contact,  had  struck 
the  light.  She  was  not  able  to  reason  back  in  this  way  from  the 
effect  to  the  cause.  She  could  only  feel  that  the  suspicion  had  be- 
come more  than  a  suspicion  already:  conviction  itself  could  not 
have  been  more  firmly  rooted  in  her  mind. 

Looking  back  at  Magdalen  by  the  new  light  now  thrown  on  her, 
Mrs.  Lecount  would  fain  have  persuaded  herself  that  she  recognized 
some  traces  left  of  the  false  Miss  Garth's  face  and  figure  in  the  grace- 
ful and  beautiful  girl  who  had  sat  at  her  master's  table  hardly  an 
hour  since — that  she  found  resemblances  now,  which  she  had  never 
thought  of  before,  between  the  angry  voice  she  had  heard  in  Vaux- 
hall  Walk  and  the  smooth,  well-bred  tones  which  still  hung  on  her 
ears  after  the  evening's  experience  down  stairs.  She  would  fain  have 
persuaded  herself  that  she  had  reached  these  results  with  no  undue 
straining  of  the  truth  as  she  really  knew  it,  but  the  effort  was  in  vain. 

Mrs.  Lecount  was  not  a  woman  to  waste  time  and  thought  in  try- 
ing to  impose  on  herself.  She  accepted  the  inevitable  conclusion 
that  the  guess-work  of  a  moment  had  led  her  to  discovery.  And, 
more  than  that,  she  recognized  the  plain  truth — unwelcome  as  it  was 
— that  the  conviction  now  fixed  in  her  own  mind  was  thus  far  un- 
supported by  a  single  fragment  of  producible  evidence  to  justify  it 
to  the  minds  of  others. 


NO    NAME.  315 

Under  these  circumstances,  what  was  the  safe  course  to  take  with 
her  master  ? 

If  she  candidly  told  him,  when  they  met  the  next  morning,  what 
had  passed  through  her  mind  that  night,  her  knowledge  of  Noel 
Vanstone  warned  her  that  one  of  two  results  would  certainly  hap- 
pen. Either  he  would  be  angry  and  disputatious ;  would  ask  for 
proofs ;  and,  finding  none  forthcoming,  would  accuse  her  of  alarm- 
ing him  without  a  cause,  to  serve  her  own  jealous  end  of  keeping 
Magdalen  out  of  the  house ;  or  he  would  be  seriously  startled,  would 
clamor  for  the  protection  of  the  law,  and  would  warn  the  Bygraves 
to  stand  on  their  defense  at  the  outset.  If  Magdalen  only  had  been 
concerned  in  the  plot,  this  latter  consequence  would  have  assumed 
no  great  importance  in  the  housekeeper's  mind.  But  seeing  the  de- 
ception as  she  now  saw  it,  she  was  far  too  clever  a  woman  to  fail  in 
estimating  the  captain's  inexhaustible  fertility  of  resource  at  its  true 
value.  "  If  I  can't  meet  this  impudent  villain  with  plain  proofs  to 
help  me,"  thought  Mrs.  Lecount,  "  I  may  open  my  master's  eyes  to- 
morrow morning,  and  Mr.  Bygrave  will  shut  them  up  again  before 
night.  The  rascal  is  playing  with  all  his  own  cards  under  the  table, 
and  he  will  win  the  game  to  a  certainty  if  he  sees  my  hand  at  starting." 

This  policy  of  waiting  was  so  manifestly  the  wise  policy — the  wily 
Mr.  Bygrave  was  so  sure  to  have  provided  himself,  in  case  of  emer- 
gency, with  evidence  to  prove  the  identity  which  he  and  his  niece 
had  assumed  for  their  purpose,  that  Mrs.  Lecount  at  once  decided  to 
keep  her  own  counsel  the  next  morning,  and  to  pause  before  attack- 
ing the  conspiracy  until  she  could  produce  unanswerable  facts  to 
help  her.  Her  master's  acquaintance  with  the  Bygraves  was  only 
an  acquaintance  of  one  day's  standing.  There  was  no  fear  of  its  de- 
veloping into  a  dangerous  intimacy  if  she  merely  allowed  it  to  con- 
tinue for  a  few  days  more,  and  if  she  permanently  checked  it,  at  the 
latest,  in  a  week's  time. 

In  that  period,  what  measures  could  she  take  to  remove  the  ob- 
stacles which  now  stood  in  her  way,  and  to  provide  herself  with  the 
weapons  which  she  now  wanted  ? 

Reflection  showed  her  three  different  chances  in  her  favor — three 
different  ways  of  arriving  at  the  necessary  discovery. 

The  first  chance  was  to  cultivate  friendly  terms  with  Magdalen, 
and  then,  taking  her  unawares,  to  entrap  her  into  betraying  herself 
in  Noel  Vanstone's  presence.  The  second  chance  was  to  write  to 
the  elder  Miss  Vanstone,  and  to  ask  (with  some  alarming  reason  for 
putting  the  question)  for  information  on  the  subject  of  her  younger 
sister's  whereabouts,  and  of  any  peculiarities  in  her  personal  appear- 
ance which  might  enable  a  stranger  to  identify  her.  The  third 
chance  was  to  penetrate  the  mystery  of  Mrs.  By  grave's  seclusion,  and 
to  ascertain  at  a  personal  interview  whether  the  invalid  lady's  rea? 


316  NO   NAME. 

complaint  might  not  possibly  be  a  defective  capacity  for  keeping 
her  husband's  secrets.  Resolving  to  try  all  three  chances,  in  the  or- 
der in  which  they  are  here  enumerated,  and  to  set  her  snares  for 
Magdalen  on  the  day  that  was  now  already  at  hand,  Mrs.  Lecount  at 
last  took  off  her  dressing-gown  and  allowed  her  weaker  nature  to 
plead  with  her  for  a  little  sleep. 

The  dawn  was  breaking  over  the  cold  gray  sea  as  she  lay  down 
in  her  bed  again.  The  last  idea  in  her  mind  before  she  fell  asleep 
was  characteristic  of  the  woman — it  was  an  idea  that  threatened  the 
captain.  "  He  has  trifled  with  the  sacred  memory  of  my  husband," 
thought  the  Professor's  widow.  "  On  my  life  and  honor,  I  will 
make  him  pay  for  it." 

Early  the  next  morning  Magdalen  began  the  day,  according  to 
her  agreement  with  the  captain,  by  taking  Mrs.  Wragge  out  for  a 
little  exercise  at  an  hour  when  there  was  no  fear  of  her  attracting 
the  public  attention.  She  pleaded  hard  to  be  left  at  home  ;  having 
the  Oriental  Cashmere  Robe  still  on  her  mind,  and  feeling  it  neces- 
sary to  read  her  directions  for  dress-making,  for  the  hundredth  time 
at  least,  before  (to  use  her  own  expression)  she  could  "  screw  up  her 
courage  to  put  the  scissors  into  the  stuff."  But  her  companion  would 
take  no  denial,  and  she  was  forced  to  go  out.  The  one  guileless  pur- 
pose of  the  life  which  Magdalen  now  led  was  the  resolution  that 
poor  Mrs.  Wragge  should  not  be  made  a  prisoner  on  her  account ; 
and  to  that  resolution  she  mechanically  clung,  as  the  last  token  left 
her  by  which  she  knew  her  better-self. 

They  returned  later  than  usual  to  breakfast.  While  Mrs.  Wragge 
was  up  stairs,  straightening  herself  from  head  to  foot  to  meet  the 
morning  inspection  of  her  husband's  orderly  eye ;  and  while  Magda- 
len and  the  captain  were  waiting  for  her  in  the  parlor,  the  servant 
came  in  with  a  note  from  Sea-view  Cottage.  The  messenger  was  wait- 
ing for  an  answer,  and  the  note  was  addressed  to  Captain  Wragge. 

The  captain  opened  the  note  and  read  these  lines: 

"  Dear  Sir, — Mr.  Noel  Vanstone  desires  me  to  write  and  tell  you 
that  he  proposes  enjoying  this  fine  day  by  taking  a  long  drive  to  a 
place  on  the  coast  here  called  Dunwich.  He  is  anxious  to  know  if 
you  will  share  the  expense  of  a  carriage,  and  give  him  the  pleasure 
of  your  company  and  Miss  Bygrave's  company  on  this  excursion. 
I  am  kindly  permitted  to  be  one  of  the  party ;  and  if  I  may  say  so 
without  impropriety,  I  would  venture  to  add  that  I  shall  feel  as 
much  pleasure  as  my  master  if  you  and  your  young  lady  will  con- 
sent to  join  us.  We  propose  leaving  Aldborough  punctually  at 
eleven  o'clock.     Believe  me,  dear  sir,  your  humble  servant, 

"  Virutnie  Lecount." 


NO    NAME.        .  317 

"  Who  is  the  letter  from  ?"  asked  Magdalen,  noticing  a  change  in 
Captain  Wragge's  face  as  he  read  it.  "  What  do  they  want  with  us 
at  Sea-view  Cottage  ?" 

"  Pardon  me,"  said  the  captain,  gravely,  "  this  requires  considera- 
tion.    Let  me  have  a  minute  or  two  to  think." 

He  took  a  few  turns  up  and  down  the  room,  then  suddenly  step- 
ped aside  to  a  table  in  a  comer  on  which  his  writing  materials  were 
placed.  "  I  was  not  born  yesterday,  ma'am !"  said  the  captain, 
speaking  jocosely  to  himself.  He  winked  his  brown  eye,  took  up 
his  pen,  and  wrote  the  answer. 

"  Can  you  speak  now  ?"  inquired  Magdalen,  when  the  servant  had 
left  the  room.  "  What  does  that  letter  say,  and  how  have  you 
answered  it  ?" 

The  captain  placed  the  letter  in  her  hand.  "  I  have  accepted  the 
invitation,"  he  replied,  quietly. 

Magdalen  read  the  letter.  "  Hidden  enmity  yesterday,"  she  said, 
"  and  open  friendship  to-day.     What  does  it  mean  ?" 

"  It  means,"  said  Captain  Wragge,  "  that  Mrs.  Lecount  is  even 
sharper  than  I  thought  her.     She  has  found  you  out." 

"Impossible,"  cried  Magdalen.     "  Quite  impossible  in  the  time." 

"  I  can't  say  how  she  has  found  you  out,"  proceeded  the  captain, 
with  perfect  composure.  "  She  may  know  more  of  your  voice  than 
we  supposed  she  knew.  Or  she  may  have  thought  us,  on  reflection, 
rather  a  suspicious  family;  and  any  thing  suspicious  in  which  a 
woman  was  concerned  may  have  taken  her  mind  back  to  that 
morning  call  of  yours  in  Yauxhall  Walk.  Whichever  way  it  may 
be,  the  meaning  of  this  sudden  change  is  clear  enough.  She  has 
found  you  out;  and  she  wants  to  put  her  discovery  to  the  proof 
by  slipping  in  an  awkward  question  or  two,  under  cover  of  a  little 
friendly  talk.  My  experience  of  humanity  has  been  a  varied  one, 
and  Mrs.  Lecount  is  not  the  first  sharp  practitioner  in  petticoats 
whom  I  have  had  to  deal  with.  All  the  world's  a  stage,  my  dear 
girl,  and  one  of  the  scenes  on  our  little  stage  is  shut  in  from  this 
moment." 

With  those  words,  he  took  his  copy  of  Joyce's  Scientific  Dialogues 
out  of  his  pocket.  "  You're  done  with  already,  my  friend !"  said 
the  captain,  giving  his  useful  information  a  farewell  smack  with 
his  hand,  and  locking  it  up  in  the  cupboard.  "  Such  is  human 
popularity!"  continued  the  indomitable  vagabond,  putting  the  key 
cheerfully  in  his  pocket.  "  Yesterday  Joyce  was  my  all-in-all.  To- 
day I  don't  care  that  for  him !"  He  snapped  his  fingers  and  sat 
down  to  breakfast. 

"  I  don't  understand  you,"  said  Magdalen,  looking  at  him  angrily. 
"Are  you  leaving  me  to  my  own  resources  for  the  future  ?" 

"  My  dear  girl !"  cried   Captain  Wragge,  "  can't  you   accustom 


318  NO    NAME. 

yourself  to  my  dash  of  humor  yet  ?  I  have  done  with  my  ready- 
made  science  simply,  because  I  am  quite  sure  that  Mrs.  Lecount  has 
done  believing  in  me.  Haven't  I  accepted  the  invitation  to  Dun- 
wich  ?  Make  your  mind  easy.  The  help  I  have  given  you  already 
counts  for  nothing  compared  with  the  help  I  am  going  to  give  you 
now.  My  honor  is  concerned  in  bowling  out  Mrs.  Lecount.  This 
last  move  of  hers  has  made  it  a  personal  matter  between  us.  The 
woman  actually  thinks  she  can  take  me  in  !  !  /"  cried  the  captain, 
striking  his  knife-handle  on  the  table  in  a  transport  of  virtuous  in- 
dignation. "  By  heavens,  I  never  was  so  insulted  before  in  my  life  ! 
Draw  your  chair  in  to  the  table,  my  dear,  and  give  me  half  a  min- 
ute's attention  to  what  I  have  to  say  next." 

Magdalen  obeyed  him.  Captain  Wragge  cautiously  lowered  his 
voice  before  he  went  on. 

"  I  have  told  you  all  along,"  he  said,  "  the  one  thing  needful  is 
never  to  let  Mrs.  Lecount  catch  you  with  your  wits  wool-gathering. 
I  say  the  same  after  what  has  happened  this  morning.  Let  her  sus- 
pect you  !  I  defy  her  to  find  a  fragment  of  foundation  for  her  sus- 
picions, unless  we  help  her.  We  shall  see  to-day  if  she  has  been 
foolish  enough  to  betray  herself  to  her  master  before  she  has  any 
facts  to  support  her.  I  doubt  it.  If  she  has  told  him,  we  will  rain 
down  proofs  of  our  identity  with  the  Bygraves  on  his  feeble  little 
head,  till  it  absolutely  aches  with  conviction.  You  have  two  things 
to  do  on  this  excursion.  First,  to  distrust  every  word  Mrs.  Lecount 
says  to  you.  Secondly,  to  exert  all  your  fascinations,  and  make 
sure  of  Mr.  Noel  Vanstone,  dating  from  to-day.  I  will  give  you  the 
opportunity  when  we  leave  the  carriage  and  take  our  walk  at  Dun- 
wich.  Wear  your  hat,  wear  your  smile  ;  do  your  figure  justice,  lace 
tight ;  put  on  your  neatest  boots  and  brightest  gloves ;  tie  the  mis- 
erable little  wretch  to  your  apron-string — tie  him  fast ;  and  leave 
the  whole  management  of  the  matter  after  that  to  me.  Steady ! 
here  is  Mrs.  Wragge :  we  must  be  doubly  careful  in  looking  after 
her  now.  Show  me  your  cap,  Mrs.  Wragge !  show  me  your  shoes  ! 
What  do  I  see  on  your  apron  ?  A  spot  ?  I  won't  have  spots  !  Take 
it  off  after  breakfast,  and  put  on  another.  Pull  your  chair  to  the 
middle  of  the  table — more  to  the  left — more  still.  Make  the  break- 
fast." 

At  a  quarter  before  eleven  Mrs.  Wragge  (with  her  own  entire  con- 
currence) was  dismissed  to  the  back  room,  to  bewilder  herself  over 
the  science  of  dress-making  for  the  rest  of  the  day.  Punctually  as 
the  clock  struck  the  hour,  Mrs.  Lecount  and  her  master  drove  up  to 
the  gate  of  North  Shingles,  and  found  Magdalen  and  Captain  Wragge 
waiting  for  them  in  the  garden. 

On  the  way  to  Dunwich  nothing  occurred  to  disturb  the  enjoy- 
ment of  the  drive.     Noel  Vanstone  was  in  excellent  health  and  high 


NO    NAME.  319 

good -humor.  Lecount  had  apologized  for  the  little  misunderstand- 
ing of  the  previous  night ;  Lecount  had  petitioned  for  the  excursion 
as  a  treat  to  herself.  He  thought  of  these  concessions,  and  looked 
at  Magdalen,  and  smirked  and  simpered  without  intermission.  Mrs. 
Lecount  acted  her  part  to  perfection.  She  was  motherly  with  Mag- 
dalen, and  tenderly  attentive  to  Noel  Vanstone.  She  was  deeply 
interested  in  Captain  Wragge's  conversation,  and  meekly  disap- 
pointed to  find  it  turn  on  general  subjects,  to  the  exclusion  of  sci- 
ence. Not  a  word  or  look  escaped  her  which  hinted  in  the  re- 
motest degree  at  her  real  purpose.  She  was  dressed  with  her  cus- 
tomary elegance  and  propriety ;  and  she  was  the  only  one  of  the 
party  on  that  sultry  summer's  day  who  was  perfectly  cool  in  the 
hottest  part  of  the  journey. 

As  they  left  the  carriage  on  their  arrival  at  Dunwich,  the  captain 
seized  a  moment  when  Mrs.  Lecount's  eye  was  off  him  and  fortified 
Magdalen  by  a  last  warning  word. 

"  'Ware  the  cat !"  he  whispered.  "  She  will  show  her  claws  on 
the  way  back." 

They  left  the  village  and  walked  to  the  ruins  of  a  convent  near 
at  hand — the  last  relic  of  the  once  populous  city  of  Dunwich  which 
has  survived  the  destruction  of  the  place,  centuries  since,  by  the  all- 
devouring  sea.  After  looking  at  the  ruins,  they  sought  the  shade 
of  a  little  wood  between  the  village  and  the  low  sand-hills  which 
overlook  the  German  Ocean.  Here  Captain  Wragge  manoeuvred  so 
as  to  let  Magdalen  and  Noel  Vanstone  advance  some  distance  in 
front  of  Mrs.  Lecount  and  himself,  took  the  wrong  path,  and  imme- 
diately lost  his  way  with  the  most  consummate  dexterity.  After  a 
few  minutes'  wandering  (in  the  wrong  direction),  he  reached  an 
open  space  near  the  sea ;  and  politely  opening  his  camp-stool  for 
the  housekeeper's  accommodation,  proposed  waiting  where  they 
were  until  the  missing  members  of  the  party  came  that  way  and 
discovered  them. 

Mrs.  Lecount  accepted  the  proposal.  She  was  perfectly  well 
aware  that  her  escort  had  lost  himself  on  purpose,  but  that  discov- 
ery exercised  no  disturbing  influence  on  the  smooth  amiability  of 
her  manner.  Her  day  of  reckoning  with  the  captain  had  not  come 
yet — she  merely  added  the  new  item  to  her  list,  and  availed  herself 
of  the  camp-stool.  Captain  Wragge  stretched  himself  in  a  romantic 
attitude  at  her  feet,  and  the  two  determined  enemies  (grouped  like 
two  lovers  in  a  picture)  fell  into  as  easy  and  pleasant  a  conversation 
as  if  they  had  been  friends  of  twenty  yearb'  standing. 

"  I  know  you,  ma'am  !"  thought  the  captain,  while  Mrs.  Lecount 
was  talking  to  him.  "  You  would  like  to  catch  me  tripping  in  my 
ready-made  science,  and  you  wouldn't  object  to  drown  me  in  the 
Professor's  Tank !" 


320  NO    NAME. 

"  You  villain  with  the  brown  eye  and  the  green !"  thought  Mrs. 
Lecount,  as  the  captain  caught  the  ball  of  conversation  in  his  turn ; 
"  thick  as  your  skin  is,  I'll  sting  you  through  it  yet !" 

In  this  frame  of  mind  toward  each  other,  they  talked  fluently  on 
general  subjects,  on  public  affairs,  on  local  scenery,  on  society  in 
England  aud  society  in  Switzerland,  on  health,  climate,  books,  mar- 
riage, and  money — talked,  without  a  moment's  pause,  without  a  sin- 
gle misunderstanding  on  either  side  for  nearly  an  hour,  before  Mag- 
dalen and  Noel  Vanstone  strayed  that  way,  and  made  the  party  of 
four  complete  again. 

When  they  reached  the  inn  at  which  the  carriage  was  waiting  for 
them,  Captain  Wragge  left  Mrs.  Lecount  in  undisturbed  possession 
of  her  master,  and  signed  to  Magdalen  to  drop  back  for  a  moment 
and  speak  to  him. 

"  Well  ?"  asked  the  captain,  in  a  whisper, "  is  he  fast  to  your 
apron-string  ?" 

She  shuddered  from  head  to  foot  as  she  answered. 

"  He  has  kissed  my  hand,"  she  said.  "  Does  that  tell  you  enough  ? 
Don't  let  him  sit  next  me  on  the  way  home  !  I  have  borne  all  I  can 
bear — spare  me  for  the  rest  of  the  day." 

"  I'll  put  you  on  the  front  seat  of  the  carriage,"  replied  the  cap- 
tain, "  side  by  side  with  me." 

On  the  journey  back  Mrs.  Lecount  verified  Captain  Wragge's  pre- 
diction.    She  showed  her  claws. 

The  time  could  not  have  been  better  chosen ;  the  circumstances 
could  hardly  have  favored  her  more.  Magdalen's  spirits  were  de- 
pressed :  she  was  weary  in  body  and  mind ;  and  she  sat  exactly  op- 
posite the  housekeeper,  who  had  been  compelled,  by  the  new  ar- 
rangement, to  occupy  the  seat  of  honor  next  her  master.  With 
every  facility  for  observing  the  slightest  changes  that  passed  over 
Magdalen's  face,  Mrs.  Lecount  tried  her  first  experiment  by  leading 
the  conversation  to  the  subject  of  London,  and  to  the  relative  ad- 
vantages offered  to  residents  by  the  various  quarters  of  the  metrop- 
olis on  both  sides  of  the  river.  The  ever-ready  Wragge  penetrated 
her  intention  sooner  than  she  had  anticipated,  and  interposed  im- 
mediately. u  You're  coming  to  Vauxhall  Walk,  ma'am,"  thought  the 
captain  ;  "  I'll  get  there  before  you." 

He  entered  at  once  into  a  purely  fictitious  description  of  the  vari- 
ous quarters  of  London  in  which  he  had  himself  resid  3d;  and,  adroit- 
ly mentioning  Vauxhall  Walk  as  one  of  them,  saved  Magdalen  from 
the  sudden  question  relating  to  that  very  locality  with  which  Mrs. 
Lecount  had  proposed  startling  her,  to  begin  with.  From  his  resi- 
dences he  passed  smoothly  to  himself,  and  poured  his  whole  family 
history  (in  the  character  of  Mr.  Bygrave)  into  the  housekeeper's  ears 
—not  forgetting  his  brother's  grave  in  Honduras,  with  the  monu- 


no    NAME.  321 

■  iiciit  by  the  self-taught  negro  artist,  and  his  brother's  hugely  cor- 
pulent widow,  on  the  ground-floor  of  the  boarding-house  at  Chelten- 
ham. As  a  means  of  giving  Magdalen  time  to  compose  herself,  litis 
outburst  of  autobiographical  information  attained  its  object,  but  it 
answered  no  other  purpose.  Mrs.  Lecount  listened,  without  being 
imposed  on  by  a  single  word  the  captain  said  to  her.  He  merely 
confirmed  her  conviction  of  the  hopelessness  of  taking  Noel  Van- 
stone  into  her  confidence  before  she  had  facts  to  help  her  against 
Captain  Wragge's  otherwise  unassailable  position  in  the  identity 
which  he  had  assumed.  She  quietly  waited  until  he  had  done,  and 
then  returned  to  the  charge. 

"  It  is  a  coincidence  that  your  uncle  should  have  once  resided  in 
Vauxhall  Walk,"  she  said,  addressing  herself  to  Magdalen.  "Mr. 
Noel  has  a  house  in  the  same  place,  and  we  lived  there  before  we 
came  to  Aldborough.  May  I  inquire,  Miss  Bygrave,  whether  you 
know  any  thing  of  a  lady  named  Miss  Garth  ?" 

This  time  she  put  the  question  before  the  captain  could  interfere. 
Magdalen  ought  to  have  been  prepared  for  it  by  what  had  already 
passed  in  her  presence,  but  her  nerves  had  been  shaken  by  the  ear- 
lier events  of  the  day ;  and  she  could  only  answer  the  question  in 
the  negative,  after  an  instant's  preliminary  pause  to  control  herself. 
Her  hesitation  was  of  too  momentary  a  nature  to  attract  the  atten- 
tion of  any  unsuspicious  person.  But  it  lasted  long  enough  to  con- 
firm Mrs.  Lecount's  private  convictions,  and  to  encourage  her  to  ad- 
vance a  little  further. 

"  I  only  asked,"  she  continued,  steadily  fixing  her  eyes  on  Magda- 
len, steadily  disregarding  the  efforts  which  Captain  Wragge  made  to 
join  in  the  conversation,  "  because  Miss  Garth  is  a  stranger  to  me, 
and  I  am  curious  to  find  out  what  I  can  about  her.  The  day  before 
we  left  town,  Miss  Bygrave,  a  person  who  presented  herself  under 
the  name  I  have  mentioned  paid  us  a  visit  under  very  extraordinary 
circumstances." 

With  a  smooth,  ingratiating  manner,  with  a  refinement  of  contempt 
which  was  little  less  than  devilish  in  its  ingenious  assumption  of  the 
language  of  pity,  she  now  boldly  described  Magdalen's  appearance 
in  disguise  in  Magdalen's  own  presence.  She  slightingly  referred  to 
the  master  and  mistress  of  Combe-Raven  as  persons  who  had  alwayp 
annoyed  the  elder  and  more  respectable  branch  of  the  family ;  sh« 
mourned  over  the  children  as  following  their  parents'  example,  aDt* 
attempting  to  take  a  mercenary  advantage  of  Mr.  Noel  Vanstone,  un- 
der the  protection  of  a  respectable  person's  character  and  a  respect- 
able person's  name.  Cleverly  including  her  master  in  the  conversa- 
tion, so  as  to  prevent  the  captain  from  effecting  a  diversion  in  thai 
quarter ;  sparing  no  petty  aggravation ;  striking  at  every  tendeJ 
place  which  the  tongue  of  a  spiteful  woman  can  wound,  she  would, 


322  NO   NAME. 

beyond  all  doubt,  have  carried  her  point,  and  tortured  Magdalen 
into  openly  betraying  herself,  if  Captain  Wragge  had  not  checked 
her  in  full  career  by  a  loud  exclamation  of  alarm,  and  a  sudden  clutch 
at  Magdalen's  wrist. 

"  Ten  thousand  pardons,  my  dear  madam  !"  cried  the  captain.  "  I 
see  in  my  niece's  face,  I  feel  in  my  niece's  pulse,  that  one  of  her  vio- 
lent neuralgic  attacks  has  come  on  again.  My  dear  girl,  why  hesi- 
tate among  friends  to  confess  that  you  are  in  pain  ?  What  mistimed 
politeness  !  Her  face  shows  she  is  suffering— doesn't  it,  Mrs.  Lecount  ? 
Darting  pains,  Mr.  Vanstone,  darting  pains  on  the  left  side  of  the 
head.  Pull  down  your  veil,  my  dear,  and  lean  on  me.  Our  friends 
will  excuse  you ;  our  excellent  friends  will  excuse  you  for  the  rest 
of  the  day." 

Before  Mrs.  Lecount  could  throw  an  instant's  doubt  on  the  genu- 
ineness of  the  neuralgic  attack,  her  master's  fidgety  sympathy  de- 
clared itself  exactly  as  the  captain  had  anticipated,  in  the  most  act- 
ive manifestations.  He  stopped  the  carriage,  and  insisted  on  an  im- 
mediate change  in  the  arrangement  of  the  places — the  comfortable 
back  seat  for  Miss  Bygrave  and  her  uncle,  the  front  seat  for  Lecount 
and  himself.  Had  Lecount  got  her  smelling  -  bottle  ?  Excellent 
creature  !  let  her  give  it  directly  to  Miss  Bygrave,  and  let  the  coach- 
man drive  carefully.  If  the  coachman  shook  Miss  Bygrave  he  should 
not  have  a  half-penny  for  himself.  Mesmerism  was  frequently  use- 
ful in  these  cases.  Mr.  Noel  Vanstone's  father  had  been  the  most 
powerful  mesmerist  in  Europe,  and  Mr.  Noel  Vanstone  was  his  fa- 
ther's son.  Might  he  mesmerize  ?  Might  he  order  that  infernal 
coachman  to  draw  up  in  a  shady  place  adapted  for  the  purpose? 
Would  medical  help  be  preferred?  Could  medical  help  be  found 
any  nearer  than  Aldborough  ?  That  ass  of  a  coachman  didn't  know. 
Stop  every  respectable  man  who  passed  in  a  gig,  and  ask  him  if  he 
was  a  doctor  !  So  Mr.  Noel  Vanstone  ran  on,  with  brief  intervals 
for  breathing-time,  in  a  continually-ascending  scale  of  sympathy  and 
self-importance,  throughout  the  drive  home. 

Mrs.  Lecount  accepted  her  defeat  without  uttering  a  word.  From 
the  moment  when  Captain  Wragge  interrupted  her,  her  thin  lips 
closed  and  opened  no  more  for  the  remainder  of  the  journey.  The 
warmest  expressions  of  her  master's  anxiety  for  the  suffering  young 
lady  provoked  from  her  no  outward  manifestations  of  anger.  She 
took  as  little  notice  of  him  as  possible.  She  paid  no  attention  what- 
ever to  the  captain,  whose  exasperating  consideration  for  his  van- 
quished enemy  made  him  more  polite  to  her  than  ever.  The  nearer 
and  the  nearer  they  got  to  Aldborough,  the  more  and  more  fixedly 
Mrs.  Lecount's  hard  black  eyes  looked  at  Magdalen  reclining  on  the 
opposite  seat,  with  her  eyes  closed  and  her  veil  down. 

It  was  only  when  the  carriage  stopped  at  North  Shingles,  and 


NO    NAME.  323 

when  Captain  Wragge  was  handing  Magdalen  out,  that  the  house- 
keeper at  last  condescended  to  notice  him.  As  he  smiled  and  took 
off  his  hat  at  the  carriage  door,  the  strong  restraint  she  had  laid  on 
herself  suddenly  gave  way,  and  she  flashed  one  look  at  him  which 
scorched  up  the  captain's  politeness  on  the  spot.  He  turned  at 
once,  with  a  hasty  acknowledgment  of  Noel  Vanstone's  last  sympa- 
thetic inquiries,  and  took  Magdalen  into  the  house. 

"  I  told  you  she  would  show  her  claws,"  he  said.  "  It  is  not  my 
fault  that  she  scratched  you  before  I  could  stop  her.  She  hasn't 
hurt  you,  has  she  ?" 

"  She  has  hurt  me,  to  some  purpose,"  said  Magdalen  —  "she  has 
given  me  the  courage  to  go  on.  Say  what  must  be  done  to-morrow, 
and  trust  me  to  do  it."  She  sighed  heavily  as  she  said  those  words, 
and  went  up  to  her  room. 

Captain  Wragge  walked  meditatively  into  the  parlor,  and  sat 
down  to  consider.  He  felt  by  no  means  so  certain  as  he  could  have 
wished  of  the  next  proceeding  on  the  part  of  the  enemy  after  the 
defeat  of  that  day.  The  housekeeper's  farewell  look  had  plainly 
informed  him  that  she  was  not  at  the  end  of  her  resources  yet,  and 
the  old  militia-man  felt  the  full  importance  of  preparing  himself  in 
good  time  to  meet  the  next  step  which  she  took  in  advance.  He 
lit  a  cigar,  and  bent  his  wary  mind  on  the  dangers  of  the  future. 

While  Captain  Wragge  was  considering  in  the  parlor  at  North 
Shingles,  Mrs.  Lecount  was  meditating  in  her  bedroom  at  Sea  View. 
Her  exasperation  at  the  failure  of  her  first  attempt  to  expose  the 
conspiracy  had  not  blinded  her  to  the  instant  necessity  of  making 
a  second  effort  before  Noel  Vanstone's  growing  infatuation  got  be- 
yond her  control.  The  snare  set  for  Magdalen  having  failed,  the 
chance  of  entrapping  Magdalen's  sister  was  the  next  chance  to  try. 
Mrs.  Lecount  ordered  a  cup  of  tea,  opened  her  writing-case,  and 
began  the  rough  draft  of  a  letter  to  be  sent  to  Miss  Vanstone,  the 
elder,  by  the  morrow's  post. 

So  the  day's  skirmish  ended.  The  heat  of  the  battle  was  yet  to 
come. 


CHAPTER  VI. 

All  human  penetration  has  its  limits.  Accurately  as  Captain 
Wragge  had  seen  his  way  hitherto,  even  his  sharp  insight  was  now 
at  fault.  He  finished  his  cigar  with  the  mortifying  conviction  that 
he  was  totally  unprepared  for  Mrs.  Lecount's  next  proceeding. 

In  this  emergency,  his  experience  warned  him  that  there  was  one 
safe  course,  and  one  only,  which  he  could  take.  He  resolved  to  try 
the  confusing  effect  on  the  housekeeper  of  a  complete  change  oi 


324  NO    NAME. 

tactics  before  she  had  time  to  press  her  advantage  and  attack  him 
in  the  dark.  With  this  view  he  sent  the  servant  up  stairs  to  request 
that  Miss  Bygrave  would  come  down  and  speak  to  him. 

"  I  hope  I  don't  disturb  you,"  said  the  captain,  when  Magdalen 
entered  the  room.  "  Allow  me  to  apologize  for  the  smell  of  tobacco, 
and  to  say  two  words  on  the  subject  of  our  next  proceedings.  To 
put  it  with  my  customary  frankness,  Mrs.  Lecount  puzzles  me,  and  I 
propose  to  return  the  compliment  by  puzzling  her.  The  course  of 
action  which  I  have  to  suggest  is  a  very  simple  one.  I  have  had 
the  honor  of  giving  you  a  severe  neuralgic  attack  already,  and  I  beg 
your  permission  (when  Mr.  Noel  Vanstone  sends  to  inquire  to-mor- 
row morning)  to  take  the  further  liberty  of  laying  you  up  alto- 
gether. Question  from  Sea- view  Cottage:  'How  is  Miss  Bygrave 
this  morning  V  Answer  from  North  Shingles  :  '  Much  worse  :  Miss 
Bygrave  is  confined  to  her  room.'  Question  repeated  every  day, 
say  for  a  fortnight :  '  How  is  Miss  Bygrave  V  Answer  repeated,  if 
necessary,  for  the  same  time :  '  No  better.'  Can  you  bear  the  im- 
prisonment ?  I  see  no  objection  to  your  getting  a  breath  of  fresh 
air  the  first  thing  in  the  morning,  or  the  last  thing  at  night.  But 
for  the  whole  of  the  day,  there  is  no  disguising  it,  you  must  put 
yourself  in  the  same  category  with  Mrs.  Wragge  —  you  must  keep 
your  room." 

"  What  is  your  object  in  wishing  me  to  do  this  ?"  inquired  Mag- 
dalen. 

"  My  object  is  twofold,"  replied  the  captain.  "  I  blush  for  my 
own  stupidity ;  but  the  fact  is,  I  can't  see  my  way  plainly  to  Mrs. 
Lecount's  next  move.  All  I  feel  sure  of  is,  that  she  means  to  make 
another  attempt  at  opening  her  master's  eyes  to  the  truth.  What- 
ever means  she  may  employ  to  discover  your  identity,  personal 
communication  with  you  must  be  necessary  to  the  accomplishment 
of  her  object.  Very  good.  If  I  stop  that  communication,  I  put  an 
obstacle  in  her  way  at  starting — or,  as  we  say  at  cards,  I  force  her 
hand.     Do  you  see  the  point  ?" 

Magdalen  saw  it  plainly.     The  captain  went  on. 

"  My  second  reason  for  shutting  you  up,"  he  said,  "  refers  entirely 
to  Mrs.  Lecount's  master.  The  growth  of  love,  my  dear  girl,  is,  in 
one  respect,  unlike  all  other  growths — it  flourishes  under  adverse 
circumstances.  Our  first  course  of  action  is  to  make  Mr.  Noel  Van- 
stone  feel  the  charm  of  your  society.  Our  next  is  to  drive  him  dis- 
tracted by  the  loss  of  it.  I  should  have  proposed  a  few  more  meet- 
ings, with  a  view  to  furthering  this  end,  but  for  our  present  critical 
position  toward  Mrs.  Lecount.  As  it  is,  we  must  trust  to  the  effect 
you  produced  yesterday,  and  try  the  experiment  of  a  sudden  separa- 
tion rather  sooner  than  I  could  have  otherwise  wished.  I  shall  see 
Mr.  Noel  Vanstone,  though  you  don't ;  and  if  there  is  a  raw  place 


NO   NAME.  325 

established  anywhere  about  the  region  of  that  gentleman's  heart, 
trust  me  to  hit  him  on  it !  You  are  now  in  full  possession  of  my 
views.  Take  your  time  to  consider,  and  give  me  your  answer— 
Yes  or  no." 

"  Any  change  is  for  the  better,"  said  Magdalen,  "  which  keeps  me 
out  of  the  company  of  Mrs.  Lecount  and  her  master !  Let  it  be  as 
you  wish." 

She  had  hitherto  answered  faintly  and  wearily;  but  she  spoke 
those  last  words  with  a  heightened  tone  and  a  rising  color— signs 
which  warned  Captain  Wragge  not  to  press  her  further. 

"  Very  good,"  said  the  captain.  "  As  usual,  we  understand  each 
other.     I  see  you  are  tired ;  and  I  won't  detain  you  any  longer." 

He  rose  to  open  the  door,  stopped  half-way  to  it,  and  came  back 
again.  "  Leave  me  to  arrange  matters  with  the  servant  down  stairs," 
he  continued.  "  You  can't  absolutely  keep  your  bed,  and  we  must 
purchase  the  girl's  discretion  when  she  answers  the  door,  without 
taking  her  into  our  confidence,  of  course.  I  will  make  her  under- 
stand that  she  is  to  say  you  are  ill,  just  as  she  might  say  you  are 
not  at  home,  as  a  way  of  keeping  unwelcome  acquaintances  out  of 
the  house.  Allow  me  to  open  the  door  for  you. — I  beg  your  pardon, 
you  are  going  into  Mrs.  Wragge's  work-room  instead  of  going  to 
your  own." 

"  I  know  I  am,"  said  Magdalen.  "  I  wish  to  remove  Mrs.  Wragge 
from  the  miserable  room  she  is  in  now,  and  to  take  her  up  stairs 
with  me." 

"  For  the  evening  ?" 

"  For  the  whole  fortnight." 

Captain  Wragge  followed  her  into  the  dining-room,  and  wisely 
closed  the  door  before  he  spoke  again. 

uDo  you  seriously  mean  to  inflict  my  wife's  society  on  yourself 
for  a  fortnight  ?"  he  asked,  in  great  surprise. 

"  Your  wife  is  the  only  innocent  creature  in  this  guilty  house," 
she  burst  out  vehemently.     "  I  must  and  will  have  her  with  me  !" 

"Pray  don't  agitate  yourself,"  said  the  captain.  "Take  Mrs. 
Wragge,  by  all  means.  I  don't  want  her."  Having  resigned  the 
partner  of  his  existence  in  those  terms,  he  discreetly  returned  to  the 
parlor.  "  The  weakness  of  the  sex  !"  thought  the  captain,  tapping 
his  sagacious  head.  "  Lay  a  strain  on  the  female  intellect,  and  the 
female  temper  gives  way  directly." 

The  strain  to  which  the  captain  alluded  was  not  confined  that 
evening  to  the  female  intellect  at  North  Shingles :  it  extended  to 
the  female  intellect  at  Sea  View.  For  nearly  two  hours  Mrs.  Le- 
count sat  at  her  desk  writing,  correcting,  and  writing  again,  before 
she  could  produce  a  letter  to  Miss  Vanstone,  the  elder,  which  ex- 
actly accomplished  the  object  she  wanted  to  attain.     At  last  the 


326  NO   NAME. 

rough  draft  was  completed  to  her  satisfaction ;  and  she  made  a  fair 
copy  of  it  forthwith,  to  be  posted  the  next  day. 

Her  letter  thus  produced  was  a  masterpiece  of  ingenuity.  After 
the  first  preliminary  sentences,  the  housekeeper  plainly  informed 
Norah  of  the  appearance  of  the  visitor  in  disguise  at  Vauxhall 
Walk  ;  of  the  conversation  which  passed  at  the  interview;  and  of 
her  own  suspicion  that  the  person  claiming  to  be  Miss  Garth  was, 
in  all  probability,  the  younger  Miss  Vanstone  herself.  Having  told 
the  truth  thus  far,  Mrs.  Lecount  next  proceeded  to  say  that  her  mas- 
ter was  in  possession  of  evidence  which  would  justify  him  in  putting 
the  law  in  force ;  that  he  knew  the  conspiracy  with  which  he  was 
threatened  to  be  then  in  process  of  direction  against  him  at  Aid- 
borough  ;  and  that  he  only  hesitated  to  protect  himself  in  deference 
to  family  considerations,  and  in  the  hope  that  the  elder  Miss  Van- 
stone  might  so  influence  her  sister  as  to  render  it  unnecessary  to 
proceed  to  extremities. 

Under  these  circumstances  (the  letter  continued)  it  was  plainly 
necessary  that  the  disguised  visitor  to  Vauxhall  Walk  should  be 
properly  identified ;  for  if  Mrs.  Lecount's  guess  proved  to  be  wrong, 
and  if  the  person  turned  out  to  be  a  stranger,  Mr.  Noel  Vanstone 
was  positively  resolved  to  prosecute  in  his  own  defense.  Events  at 
Aldborough,  on  which  it  was  not  necessary  to  dwell,  would  enable 
Mrs.  Lecount  in  a  few  days  to  gain  sight  of  the  suspected  person 
in  her  own  character.  But  as  the  housekeeper  was  entirely  unac- 
quainted with  the  younger  Miss  Vanstone,  it  was  obviously  desirable 
that  some  better-informed  person  should,  in  this  particular,  take  the 
matter  in  hand.  If  the  elder  Miss  Vanstone  happened  to  be  at  lib- 
erty to  come  to  Aldborough  herself,  would  she  kindly  write  and 
say  so  ? — and  Mrs.  Lecount  would  write  back  again  to  appoint  a 
day.  If,  on  the  other  hand,  Miss  Vanstone  was  prevented  from 
taking  the  journey,  Mrs.  Lecount  suggested  that  her  reply  should 
contain  the  fullest  description  of  her  sister's  personal  appearance — 
should  mention  any  little  peculiarities  which  might  exist  in  the  way 
of  marks  on  her  face  or  her  hands — and  should  state  (in  case  she 
had  written  lately)  what  the  address  was  in  her  last  letter,  and  fail- 
ing that,  what  the  post-mark  was  on  the  envelope.  With  this  in- 
formation to  help  her,  Mrs.  Lecount  would,  in  the  interest  of  the 
misguided  young  lady  herself,  accept  the  responsibility  of  privately 
identifying  her,  and  would  write  back  immediately  to  acquaint  the 
elder  Miss  Vanstone  with  the  result. 

The  difficulty  of  sending  this  letter  to  the  right  address  gave  Mrs. 
Lecount  very  little  trouble.  Remembering  the  name  of  the  lawyer 
who  had  pleaded  the  cause  of  the  two  sisters  in  Michael  Vanstone's 

time,  she  directed  her  letter  to  "  Miss  Vanstone,  care  of Pen- 

dril,  Esquire,  London."     This  she  inclosed  in  a   second  envelope, 


NO   NAMB.  327 

addressed  to  Mr.  Noel  Vanstone's  solicitor,  with  a  line  inside,  re- 
questing that  gentleman  to  send  it  at  once  to  the  office  of  Mr.  Pen- 
dril. 

"  Now,"  thought  Mrs.  Lecount,  as  she  locked  the  letter  up  in  her 
desk,  preparatory  to  posting  it  the  next  day  with  her  own  hand, 
"  now  I  have  got  her !" 

The  next  morning  the  servant  from  Sea  View  came,  with  her  mas- 
ter's compliments,  to  make  inquiries  after  Miss  Bygrave's  health. 
Captain  Wragge's  bulletin  was  duly  announced — Miss  Bygrave  was 
so  ill  as  to  be  confined  to  her  room. 

On  the  reception  of  this  intelligence,  Noel  Vanstone's  anxiety  led 
him  to  call  at  North  Shingles  himself  when  he  went  out  for  his 
afternoon  walk.  Miss  Bygrave  was  no  better.  He  inquired  if  he 
could  see  Mr.  Bygrave.  The  worthy  captain  was  prepared  to  meet 
this  emergency.  He  thought  a  little  irritating  suspense  would  do 
Noel  Vanstone  no  barm,  and  he  had  carefully  charged  the  servant, 
in  case  of  necessity,  with  her  answer :  "  Mr.  Bygrave  begged  to  be 
excused ;  he  was  not  able  to  see  any  one." 

On  the  second  day  inquiries  were  made  as  before,  by  message  in 
the  morning,  and  by  Noel  Vanstone  himself  in  the  afternoon.  The 
morning  answer  (relating  to  Magdalen)  was,  "  a  shade  better."  The 
afternoon  answer  (relating  to  Captain  Wragge)  was, "  Mr.  Bygrave 
has  just  gone  out."  That  evening  Noel  Vanstone's  temper  was  very 
uncertain,  and  Mrs.  Lecount's  patience  and  tact  were  sorely  tried  in 
the  efibrt  to  avoid  offending  him. 

On  the  third  morning  the  report  of  the  suffering  young  lady  was 
less  favorable — "  Miss  Bygrave  was  still  very  poorly,  and  not  able 
to  leave  her  bed."  The  servant  returning  to  Sea  View  with  this 
message,  met  the  postman,  and  took  into  the  breakfast-room  with 
her  two  letters  addressed  to  Mrs.  Lecount. 

The  first  letter  was  in  a  handwriting  familiar  to  the  housekeeper. 
It  was  from  the  medical  attendant  on  her  invalid  brother  at  Zurich ; 
and  it  announced  that  the  patient's  malady  had  latterly  altered  in 
so  marked  a  manner  for  the  better  that  there  was  every  hope  now 
of  preserving  his  life. 

The  address  on  the  second  letter  was  in  a  strange  handwriting. 
Mrs.  Lecount,  concluding  that  it  was  the  answer  from  Miss  Van- 
stone, waited  to  read  it  until  breakfast  was  over,  and  she  could  re- 
tire to  her  own  room. 

She  opened  the  letter,  looked  at  once  for  the  name  at  the  end, 
and  started  a  little  as  she  read  it.  The  signature  was  not  "  Norah 
Vanstone,"  but  "  Harriet  Garth." 

Miss  Garth  announced  that  the  elder  Miss  Vanstone  had,  a  week 


628  NO   NAME. 

since,  accepted  an  engagement  as  governess,  subject  to  the  condi- 
tion of  joining  the  family  of  her  employer  at  their  temporary  resi- 
dence in  the  south  of  France,  and  of  returning  with  them  when 
they  came  back  to  England,  probably  in  a  month  or  six  weeks' 
time.  During  the  interval  of  this  necessary  absence  Miss  Vanstone 
had  requested  Miss  Garth  to  open  all  her  letters,  her  main  object 
in  making  that  arrangement  being  to  provide  for  the  speedy  an- 
swering of  any  communication  which  might  arrive  for  her  from  her 
sister.  Miss  Magdalen  Vanstone  had  not  written  since  the  middle 
of  July — on  which  occasion  the  post-mark  on  the  letter  showed  that 
it  must  have  been  posted  in  London,  in  the  district  of  Lambeth — ■ 
and  her  elder  sister  had  left  England  in  a  state  of  the  most  distress- 
ing anxiety  on  her  account. 

Having  completed  this  explanation,  Miss  Garth  then  mentioned 
that  family  circumstances  prevented  her  from  traveling  personally 
to  Aldborough  to  assist  Mrs.  Lecount's  object,  but  that  she  was  pro- 
vided with  a  substitute,  in  every  way  fitter  for  the  purpose,  in  the 
person  of  Mr.  Pendril.  That  gentleman  was  well  acquainted  with 
Miss  Magdalen  Vanstone,  and  his  professional  experience  and  dis- 
cretion would  render  his  assistance  doubly  valuable.  He  had  kind- 
ly consented  to  travel  to  Aldborough  whenever  it  might  be  thought 
necessary.  But  as  his  time  was  very  valuable,  Miss  Garth  specially 
requested  that  he  might  not  be  sent  for  until  Mrs.  Lecount  was  quite 
sure  of  the  day  on  which  his  services  might  be  required. 

While  proposing  this  arrangement,  Miss  Garth  added  that  she 
thought  it  right  to  furnish  her  correspondent  with  a  written  de- 
scription of  the  younger  Miss  Vanstone  as  well.  An  emergency 
might  happen  which  would  allow  Mrs.  Lecount  no  time  for  secur- 
ing Mr.  Pendril's  services ;  and  the  execution  of  Mr.  Noel  Vanstone's 
intentions  toward  the  unhappy  girl  who  was  the  object  of  his  for 
bearance  might  be  fatally  delayed  by  an  unforeseen  difficulty  in 
establishing  her  identity.  The  personal  description,  transmitted 
under  these  circumstances,  then  followed.  It  omitted  no  personal 
peculiarity  by  which  Magdalen  could  be  recognized,  and  it  included 
the  "  two  Uttle  moles  close,  together  on  the  left  side  of  the  neck,'1 
which  had  been  formerly  mentioned  in  the  printed  handbills  sent 
to  York. 

In  conclusion,  Miss  Garth  expressed  her  fears  that  Mrs.  Lecount's 
suspicions  were  only  too  likely  to  be  proved  true.  While,  however, 
there  was  the  faintest  chance  that  the  conspiracy  might  turn  out 
to  be  directed  by  a  stranger,  Miss  Garth  felt  bound,  in  gratitude 
toward  Mr.  Noel  Vanstone,  to  assist  the  legal  proceedings  which 
would  in  that  case  be  instituted.  She  accordingly  appended  her 
own  formal  denial — which  she  would  personally  repeat  if  necessary 
—of  any  identity  between  herself  and  the  person  in  disguise  who 


NO   NAME.  329 

had  made  use  of  her  name.  She  was  the  Miss  Garth  who  had  filled 
the  situation  of  the  late  Mr.  Andrew  Vanstone's  governess,  and  she 
had  never  in  her  life  been  in,  or  near,  the  neighborhood  of  Vauxhall 
Walk. 

With  this  disclaimer,  and  with  the  writer's  fervent  assurances 
thai  she  would  do  all  for  Magdalen's  advantage  which  her  sister 
might  have  done  if  her  sister  had  been  in  England,  the  letter  con- 
cluded. It  was  signed  in  full,  and  was  dated  with  the  business- 
like accuracy  in  such  matters  which  had  always  distinguished  Miss 
Garth's  character. 

This  letter  placed  a  formidable  weapon  in  the  housekeeper's 
hands. 

It  provided  a  means  of  establishing  Magdalen's  identity  through 
the  intervention  of  a  lawyer  by  profession.  It  contained  a  personal 
description  minute  enough  to  be  used  to  advantage,  if  necessary, 
before  Mr.  Pendril's  appearance.  It  presented  a  signed  exposure 
of  the  false  Miss  Garth  under  the  hand  of  the  true  Miss  Garth ;  and 
it  established  the  fact  that  the  last  letter  received  by  the  elder  Miss 
Vaustone  frorn  the  younger  had  been  posted  (and  therefore  proba- 
bly written)  in  the  neighborhood  of  Vauxhall  Walk.  If  any  later 
letter  had  been  received  with  the  Aldborough  postmark,  the  chain 
of  evidence,  so  far  as  the  question  of  localities  was  concerned,  might 
doubtless  have  been  more  complete.  But  as  it  was,  there  was  testi- 
mony enough  (aided  as  that  testimony  might  be  by  the  fragment 
of  the  brown  alpaca  dress  still  in  Mrs.  Lecount's  possession)  to  raise 
the  veil  which  hung  over  the  conspiracy,  and  to  place  Mr.  Noel 
Vanstone  face  to  face  with  the  plain  and  startling  truth. 

The  one  obstacle  which  now  stood  in  the  way  of  immediate  action 
on  the  housekeeper's  part  was  the  obstacle  of  Miss  Bygrave's  present 
seclusion  within  the  limits  of  her  own  room.  The  question  of  gain- 
ing personal  access  to  her  was  a  question  which  must  be  decided 
before  any  communication  could  be  opened  with  Mr.  Pendril.  Mrs. 
Lecount  put  on  her  bonnet  at  once,  and  called  at  North  Shingles  to 
try  what  discoveries  she  could  make  for  herself  before  post-time. 

On  this  occasion  Mr.  Bygrave  was  at  home,  and  she  was  admitted 
without  the  least  difficulty. 

Careful  consideration  that  morning  had  decided  Captain  Wragge 
on  advancing  matters  a  little  nearer  to  the  crisis.  The  means  by 
which  he  proposed  achieving  this  result  mpde  it  necessary  for  him 
to  see  the  housekeeper  and  her  master  separately,  and  to  set  them 
at  variance  by  producing  two  totally  opposite  impressions  relating 
to  himself  on  their  minds.  Mrs.  Lecount's  visit,  therefore,  instead 
of  causing  him  any  embarrassment,  was  the  most  welcome  occur- 
rence he  could  have  wished  for.    He  received  her  in  the  parlor  with 


330  NO   NAME. 

a  marked  restraint  of  manner  for  which  she  was  quite  unprepared, 
His  ingratiating  smile  was  gone,  and  an  impenetrable  solemnity  of 
countenance  appeared  in  its  stead. 

"  I  have  ventured  to  intrude  on  you,  sir,"  said  Mrs.  Lecount, "  to 
express  the  regret  with  which  both  my  master  and  I  have  heard  of 
Miss  Bygrave's  illness.     Is  there  no  improvement  ?" 

"No,  ma'am,"  replied  the  captain,  as  briefly  as  possible.  "My 
niece  is  no  better." 

"  I  have  had  some  experience,  Mr.  Bygrave,  in  nursing.  If  I  could 
be  of  any  use — " 

"  Thank  you,  Mrs.  Lecount.  There  is  no  necessity  for  our  taking 
advantage  of  your  kindness." 

This  plain  answer  was  followed  by  a  moment's  silence.  The 
housekeeper  felt  some  Uttle  perplexity.  What  had  become  of  Mr. 
Bygrave's  elaborate  courtesy,  and  Mr.  Bygrave's  many  words  ?  Did 
he  want  to  offend  her  ?  If  he  did,  Mrs.  Lecount  then  and  there  de- 
termined that  he  should  not  gain  his  object. 

"  May  I  inquire  the  nature  of  the  illness  ?"  she  persisted.  "  It  is 
not  connected,  I  hope,  with  our  excursion  to  Dunwich  ?" 

"  I  regret  to  say,  ma'am,"  replied  the  captain,  "  it  began  with  that 
neuralgic  attack  in  the  carriage." 

"  So  !  so  !"  thought  Mrs.  Lecount.  "  He  doesn't  even  try  to  make 
me  think  the  illness  a  real  one  ;  he  throws  off  the  mask  at  starting. 
Is  it  a  nervous  illness,  sir  ?"  she  added,  aloud. 

The  captain  answered  by  a  solemn  affirmative  inclination  of  the 
head. 

"  Then  you  have  two  nervous  sufferers  in  the  house,  Mr.  Bygrave?" 

"  Yes,  ma'am — two.     My  wife  and  my  niece." 

"  That  is  rather  a  strange  coincidence  of  misfortunes." 

"  It  is,  ma'am.     Very  strange." 

In  spite  of  Mrs.  Lecount's  resolution  not  to  be  offended,  Captain 
Wragge's  exasperating  insensibility  to  every  stroke  she  aimed  at 
him  began  to  ruffle  her.  She  was  conscious  of  some  little  difficulty 
in  securing  her  self-possession  before  she  could  say  any  thing  more. 

"  Is  there  no  immediate  hope,"  she  resumed,  "  of  Miss  Bygrave 
being  able  to  leave  her  room  ?" 

"  None  whatever,  ma'am." 

"  You  are  satisfied,  I  suppose,  with  the  medical  attendance  ?" 

"I  have  no  medical  attendance,"  said  the  captain,  composedly. 
"  I  watch  the  case  myself." 

The  gathering  venom  in  Mrs.  Lecount  swelled  up  at  that  reply, 
and  overflowed  at  her  lips. 

"  Your  smattering  of  science,  sir,"  she  said,  with  a  malicious  smile, 
u  includes,  I  presume,  a  smattering  of  medicine  as  well  ?" 

"  It  does,  ma'am,"  answered  the  captain,  without  the  slightest 


NO    NAME.  331 

disturbance  of  face  or  manner.  "  I  know  as  much  of  one  as  I  do 
of  the  other." 

The  tone  in  which  he  spoke  those  words  left  Mrs.  Lecount  but 
one  dignified  alternative.  She  rose  to  terminate  the  interview. 
The  temptation  of  the  moment  proved  too  much  for  her,  and  she 
could  not  resist  casting  the  shadow  of  a  threat  over  Captain  Wragge 
at  parting. 

"  I  defer  thanking  you,  sir,  for  the  manner  in  which  you  have  re- 
ceived me,"  she  said,  "until  I  can  pay  my  debt  of  obligation  to  some 
purpose.  In  the  mean  time  I  am  glad  to  infer,  from  the  absence  ot 
a  medical  attendant  in  the  house,  that  Miss  Bygrave's  illness  is  much 
less  serious  than  I  had  sirpposed  it  to  be  when  I  came  here." 

"I  never  contradict  a  lady, ma'am,"  rejoined  the  incorrigible  cap- 
tain. "  If  it  is  your  pleasure,  when  we  next  meet,  to  think  my  niece 
quite  well,  I  shall  bow  resignedly  to  the  expression  of  your  opinion." 
With  those  words,  he  followed  the  housekeeper  into  the  passage,  and 
politely  opened  the  door  for  her.  "  I  mark  the  trick,  ma'am  ?"  he 
said  to  himself,  as  he  closed  it  again.  "The  trump-card  in  your 
hand  is  a  sight  of  my  niece,  and  I'll  take  care  you  don't  play  it !" 

He  returned  to  the  parlor,  and  composedly  awaited  the  next  event 
which  was  likely  to  happen — a  visit  from  Mrs.  Lecount's  master.  In 
less  than  an  hour  results  justified  Captain  Wragge's  anticipations, 
and  Noel  Vanstone  walked  in. 

"  My  dear  sir !"  cried  the  captain,  cordially  seizing  his  visitor's  re- 
luctant hand,  "  I  know  what  you  have  come  for.  Mrs.  Lecount  has 
told  you  of  her  visit  here,  and  has  no  doubt  declared  that  my  niece's 
illness  is  a  mere  subterfuge.  You  feel  surprised — you  feel  hurt — you 
suspect  me  of  trifling  with  your  kind  sympathies — in  short,  you  re- 
quire an  explanation.  That  explanation  you  shall  have.  Take  a 
seat,  Mr.  Vanstone.  I  am  about  to  throw  myself  on  your  sense  and 
judgment  as  a  man  of  the  world.  I  acknowledge  that  we  are  in  a 
false  position,  sir ;  and  I  tell  you  plainly  at  the  outset — your  house- 
keeper is  the  cause  of  it." 

For  once  in  his  life,  Noel  Vanstone  opened  his  eyes.  "  Lecount !" 
he  exclaimed,  in  the  utmost  bewilderment. 

"  The  same,  sir,"  replied  Captain  Wragge.  "  I  am  afraid  I  offended 
Mrs.  Lecount,  when  she  came  here  this  morning,  by  a  want  of  cordial- 
ity in  my  manner.  I  am  a  plain  man,  and  I  can't  assume  what  I  don't 
feel.  Far  be  it  from  me  to  breathe  a  word  against  your  housekeep- 
er's character.  She  is,  no  doubt,  a  most  excellent  and  trustworthy 
woman,  but  she  has  one  serious  failing  common  to  persons  at  her 
time  of  life  who  occupy  her  situation — she  is  jealous  of  her  influence 
over  her  master,  although  you  may  not  have  observed  it." 

"  I  beg  your  pardon,"  interposed  Noel  Vanstone ;  "  my  observation 
is  remarkably  quick.     Nothing  escapes  me." 


332  NO   NAME. 

"  In  that  case,  sir,"  resumed  the  captain,  "  you  can  not  fail  to  have 
noticed  that  Mrs.  Lecount  has  allowed  her  jealousy  to  affect  her  con- 
duct toward  my  niece  ?" 

Noel  Vanstone  thought  of  the  domestic  passage  at  arms  between 
Mrs.  Lecount  and  himself  when  his  guests  of  the  evening  had  left 
Sea  View,  and  failed  to  see  his  way  to  any  direct  reply.  He  ex- 
pressed the  utmost  surprise  and  distress — he  thought  Lecount  had 
done  her  best  to  be  agreeable  on  the  drive  to  Dunwich — he  hoped 
and  trusted  there  was  some  unfortunate  mistake. 

"  Do  you  mean  to  say,  sir,"  pursued  the  captain,  severely,  "  that 
you  have  not  noticed  the  circumstance  yourself?  As  a  man  of  hon- 
or, and  a  man  of  observation,  you  can't  tell  me  that !  Your  house- 
keeper's superficial  civility  has  not  hidden  your  housekeeper's  real 
feeling.  My  niece  has  seen  it,  and  so  have  you,  and  so  have  I.  My 
niece,  Mr.  Vanstone,  is  a  sensitive,  high  -  spirited  girl ;  and  she  has 
positively  declined  to  cultivate  Mrs.  Lecount's  society  for  the  future. 
Don't  misunderstand  me  !  To  my  niece  as  well  as  to  myself,  the  at- 
traction of  your  society,  Mr.  Vanstone,  remains  the  same.  Miss  By- 
grave  simply  declines  to  be  an  apple  of  discord  (if  you  will  permit 
the  classical  allusion)  cast  into  your  household.  I  think  she  is  right 
so  far,  and  I  frankly  confess  that  I  have  exaggerated  a  nervous  in- 
disposition, from  which  she  is  really  suffering,  into  a  serious  illness — 
purely  and  entirely  to  prevent  these  two  ladies  for  the  present  from 
meetjng  every  day  on  the  Parade,  and  from  carrying  unpleasant  im- 
pressions of  each  other  into  your  domestic  establishment  and  mine." 

"  I  allow  nothing  unpleasant  in  my  establishment,"  remarked  Noel 
Vanstone.  "  I'm  master — you  must  have  noticed  that  already,  Mr. 
By  grave — I'm  master." 

"  No  doubt  of  it,  my  dear  sir.  But  to  live  morning,  noon,  and 
night  in  the  perpetual  exercise  of  your  authority  is  more  like  the 
life  of  a  governor  of  a  prison  than  the  life  of  a  master  of  a  household. 
The  wear  and  tear — consider  the  wear  and  tear." 

"  It  strikes  you  in  that  light,  does  it?"  said  Noel  Vanstone,  soothed 
by  Captain  Wragge's  ready  recognition  of  his  authority.  "  I  don't 
know  that  you're  not  right.  But  I  must  take  some  steps  directly. 
I  won't  be  made  ridiculous— I'll  send  Lecount  away  altogether,  soon- 
er than  be  made  ridiculous."  His  color  rose,  and  he  folded  his  lit- 
tle arms  fiercely.  Captain  "Wragge's  artfully-irritating  explanation 
had  awakened  that  dormant  suspicion  of  his  housekeeper's  influence 
over  him  which  habitually  lay  hidden  in  his  mind,  and  which  Mrs. 
Lecount  was  now  not  present  to  charm  back  to  repose  as  usual. 
"  What  must  Miss  Bygrave  think  of  me  !"  he  exclaimed,  with  a  sud- 
den outburst  of  vexation.  "  I'll  send  Lecount  away.  Damme,  I'll 
send  Lecount  away  on  the  spot !" 

"  No,  no,  no  1"  said  the  captain,  whose  interest  it  was  to  avoid  driv 


NO    NAME.  333 

ing  Mrs.  Lecount  to  any  desperate  extremities.  "  Why  take  strong 
measures  when  mild  measures  will  do  ?  Mrs.  Lecount  is  an  old  serv- 
ant ;  Mrs.  Lecount  is  attached  and  useful.  She  has  this  little  draw- 
back of  jealousy — jealousy  of  her  domestic  position  with  her  bache- 
lor master.  She  sees  you  paying  courteous  attention  to  a  handsome 
young  lady ;  she  sees  that  young  lady  properly  sensible  of  your  po- 
liteness ;  and,  poor  soul,  she  loses  her  temper !  What  is  the  obvious 
remedy  ?  Humor  her — make  a  manly  concession  to  the  weaker  sex. 
If  Mrs.  Lecount  is  with  you,  the  next  time  we  meet  on  the  Parade, 
walk  the  other  way.  If  Mrs.  Lecount  is  not  with  you,  give  us  the 
pleasure  of  your  company  by  all  means.  In  short,  my  dear  sir,  try 
the  siuiviter  in  modo  (as  we  classical  men  say)  before  you  commit 
yourself  to  ihefortiter  in  re!" 

There  was  one  excellent  reason  why  Noel  Vanstone  should  take 
Captain  Wragge's  conciliatory  advice.  An  open  rupture  with  Mrs. 
Lecount — even  if  he  could  have  summoned  the  courage  to  face  it 
— would  imply  the  recognition  of  her  claims  to  a  provision,  in  ac- 
knowledgment of  the  services  she  had  rendered  to  his  father  and  to 
himself.  His  sordid  nature  quailed  within  him  at  the  bare  prospect 
of  expressing  the  emotion  of  gratitude  in  a  pecuniary  form ;  and, 
after  first  consulting  appearances  by  a  show  of  hesitation,  he  con- 
sented to  adopt  the  captain's  suggestion,  and  to  humor  Mrs.  Le- 
count. 

"  But  I  must  be  considered  in  this  matter,"  proceeded  Noel  Van- 
stone.  "My  concession  to  Lecounfs  weakness  must  not  be  mis- 
understood. Miss  Bygrave  must  not  be  allowed  to  suppose  I  am 
afraid  of  my  housekeeper." 

The  captain  declared  that  no  such  idea  ever  had  entered,  or  ever 
could  enter,  Miss  Bygrave's  mind.  Noel  Vanstone  returned  to  the 
subject  nevertheless,  again  and  again,  with  his  customary  pertinaci- 
ty. Would  it  be  indiscreet  if  he  asked  leave  to  set  himself  right 
personally  with  Miss  Bygrave  ?  Was  there  any  hope  that  he  might 
have  the  happiness  of  seeing  her  on  that  day  ?  or  if  not,  on  the  next 
day  ?  or  if  not,  on  the  day  after  ?  Captain  Wragge  answered  cau- 
tiously :  he  felt  the  importance  of  not  'rousing  Noel  Vanstone's  dis- 
trust by  too  great  an  alacrity  in  complying  wilh  his  wishes. 

"An  interview  to-day,  my  dear  sir,  is  out  of  the  question,"  he 
said.  "  She  is  not  well  enough ;  she  wants  repose.  To-morrow  I 
propose  taking  her  out  before  the  heat  of  the  day  begins — not  mere- 
ly to  avoid  embarrassment,  after  what  has  happened  with  Mrs.  Le- 
count, but  because  the  morning  air  and  the  morning  quiet  are  es- 
sential in  these  nervous  cases.  We  are  early  people  here — we  shall 
start  at  seven  o'clock.  If  you  are  early  too,  and  if  you  would  like 
to  join  us,  I  need  hardly  say  that  we  can  feel  no  objection  to  your 
company  on  our  morning  walk.     The  hour,  I  am  aware,  is  an  un^ 


334  NO    NAME. 

usual  one — but  later  in  the  clay  my  niece  may  be  resting  on  the 
sofa,  and  may  not  be  able  to  see  visitors." 

Having  made  this  proposal  purely  for  the  purpose  of  enabling 
.Noel  Vanstone  to  escape  to  North  Shingles  at  an  hour  in  the  morn- 
ing when  his  housekeeper  would  be  probably  in  bed,  Captain 
Wragge  left  him  to  take  the  hint,  if  he  could,  as  indirectly  as  it  had 
been  given.  He  proved  sharp  enough  (the  case  being  one  in  which 
his  own  interests  were  concerned)  to  close  with  the  proposal  on  the 
spot.  Politely  declaring  that  he  was  always  an  early  man  when  the 
morning  presented  any  special  attraction  to  him,  he  accepted  the 
appointment  for  seven  o'clock,  and  rose  soon  afterward  to  take  his 
leave. 

"  One  word  at  parting,"  said  Captain  Wragge.  "  This  conversa- 
tion is  entirely  between  ourselves.  Mrs.  Lecount  must  know  noth 
ing  of  the  impression  she  has  produced  on  my  niece.  I  have  only 
mentioned  it  to  you  to  account  for  my  ajjparently  churlish  conduct, 
and  to  satisfy  your  own  mind.  In  confidence,  Mr.  Vanstone — strict- 
ly in  confidence.     Good-morning !" 

With  these  parting  words,  the  captain  bowed  his  visitor  out. 
Unless  some  unexpected  disaster  occurred,  he  now  saw  his  way 
safely  to  the  end  of  the  enterprise.  He  had  gained  two  important 
steps  in  advance  that  morning.  He  had  sown  the  seeds  of  variance 
between  the  housekeeper  and  her  master,  and  he  had  given  Noel 
Vanstone  a  common  interest  with  Magdalen  and  himself,  in  keeping 
a  secret  from  Mrs.  Lecount.  "  We  have  caught  our  man,"  thought 
Captain  Wragge,  cheerfully  rubbing  his  hands — "  we  have  caught 
our  man  at  last !" 

On  leaving  North  Shingles,  Noel  Vanstone  walked  straight  home, 
fully  restored  to  his  place  in  his  own  estimation,  and  sternly  deter- 
mined to  carry  matters  with  a  high  hand  if  he  found  himself  in  col- 
lision with  Mrs.  Lecount. 

The  housekeeper  received  her  master  at  the  door  with  her  mild- 
est manner  and  her  gentlest  smile.  She  addressed  him  with  down- 
cast eyes ;  she  opposed  to  his  contemplated  assertion  of  independ- 
ence a  barrier  of  impenetrable  respect. 

"May  I  venture  to  ask,  sir,"  she  began,  "if  your  visit  to  North 
Shingles  has  led  you  to  form  the  same  conclusion  as  mine  on  the 
subject  of  Miss  Bygrave's  illness  ?" 

"Certainly  not,  Lecount.  I  consider  your  conclusion  to  have 
been  both  hasty  and  prejudiced." 

"  I  am  sorry  to  hear  itj  sir.  I  felt  hurt  by  Mr.  Bygrave's  rude  re- 
ception of  me,  but  I  was  not  aware  that  my  judgment  was  prejudiced 
by  it.     Perhaps  he  received  you,  sir,  with  a  warmer  welcome  ?" 

"  He  received  me  like  a  gentleman — that  is  all  I  think  it  necessa- 
ry to  say,  Lecount — he  received  me  like  a  gentleman." 


■"■"'M:  r: "'.,   , 


iK«:% 


V  MY8TE11T    IN     HIS    OWN    HOUSE,    UNDER    HIS    OWN    NOSE !       WHAT    DID   VT 

MEAN? 


NO    NAME.  331 

This  answer  satisfied  Mrs.  Lecount  on  the  one  doubtful  point  that 
had  perplexed  her.  Whatever  Mr.  Bygrave's  sudden  coolness  to- 
ward herself  might  mean,  his  polite  reception  other  master  implied 
that  the  risk  of  detection  had  not  daunted  him,  and  that  the  plot 
was  still  in  full  progress.  The  housekeeper's  eyes  brightened ;  she 
had  expressly  calculated  on  this  result.  After  a  moment's  thinking, 
she  addressed  her  master  with  another  question  : 

"  You  will  probably  visit  Mr.  Bygrave  again,  sir  ?" 

•'  Of  course  I  shall  visit  him — if  I  please." 

"  And  perhaps  see  Miss  Bygrave,  if  she  gets  better  ?" 

"  Why  not  ?  I  should  be  glad  to  know  why  not  ?  Is  it  necessary 
to  ask  your  leave  first,  Lecount  ?" 

'•  By  no  means,  sir.  As  you  have  often  said  (and  as  I  have  often 
agreed  with  you),  you  are  master.  It  may  surprise  you  to  hear  it, 
Mr.  Noel,  but  I  have  a  private  reason  for  wishing  that  you  should 
see  Miss  Bygrave  again." 

Mr.  Noel  started  a  little,  and  looked  at  his  housekeeper  with 
some  curiosity. 

"  I  have  a  strange  fancy  of  my  own,  sir,  about  that  young  lady," 
proceeded  Mrs.  Lecount.  "  If  you  will  excuse  my  fancy,  and  in- 
dulge it,  you  will  do  me  a  favor  for  which  I  shall  be  very  grateful." 

"A  fancy?"  repeated  her  master,  in  growing  surprise.  "What 
fancy  ?" 

"  Only  this,  sir,"  said  Mrs.  Lecount. 

She  took  from  one  of  the  neat  little  pockets  of  her  apron  a  morsel 
of  note-paper,  carefully  folded  into  the  smallest  possible  compass, 
and  respectfully  placed  it  in  Noel  Vanstone's  hands. 

"If  you  are  willing  to  oblige  an  old  and  faithful  servant,  Mr. 
Noel,"  she  said,  in  a  very  quiet  and  very  impressive  manner,  "  you 
will  kindly  put  that  morsel  of  paper  into  your  waistcoat-pocket ; 
you  will  open  and  read  it,  for  the  first  time,  when  you  are  next  in 
Miss  Bygrave's  company,  and  you  will  say  nothing  of  what  has  now 
passed  between  us  to  any  living  creature,  from  this  time  to  that.  I 
promise  to  explain  my  strange  request,  sir,  when  you  have  done 
what  I  ask,  and  when  your  next  interview  with  Miss  Bygrave  has 
come  to  an  end." 

She  courtesied  with  her  best  grace,  and  quietly  left  the  room. 

Noel  Vanstone  looked  froin  the  folded  paper  to  the  door,  and 
from  the  door  back  to  the  folded  paper,  in  unutterable  astonish- 
ment. A  mystery  in  his  own  house !  under  his  own  nose !  What 
did  it  mean? 

-.  It  meant  that  Mrs.  Lecount  had  not  wasted  her  time  that  morning. 
While  the  captain  was  casting  the  net  over  his  visitor  at  North 
Shingles,  the  housekeeper  was  steadily  mining  the  ground  under 
his  feet.     The  folded  paper  contained  nothing  less  than  a  carefully- 


338  NO   NAME. 

written  extract  from  the  personal  description  of  Magdalen  in  Miss 
Garth's  letter.  With  a  daring  ingenuity  which  even  Captain  Wragge 
might  have  envied,  Mrs.  Lecount  had  found  her  instrument  for  ex- 
posing the  conspiracy  in  the  unsuspecting  person  of  the  victim 
himself  I 


CHAPTER  VH. 

Late  that  evening,  when  Magdalen  and  Mrs.  Wragge  came  back 
from  their  walk  in  the  dark,  the  captain  stopped  Magdalen  on  her 
way  up  stairs  to  inform  her  of  the  proceedings  of  the  day.  He  add- 
ed the  expression  of  his  opinion  that  the  time  had  come  for  bring- 
ing Noel  Vanstone,  with  the  least  possible  delay,  to  the  point  of 
making  a  proposal.  She  merely  answered  that  she  understood  him, 
and  that  she  would  do  what  was  required  of  her.  Captain  Wragge 
requested  her  in  that  case  to  oblige  him  by  joining  a  walking  ex- 
cursion in  Mr.  Noel  Vanstone's  company  at  seven  o'clock  the  next 
morning.  "  I  will  be  ready,"  she  replied.  "  Is  there  any  thing 
more  ?"  There  was  nothing  more.  Magdalen  bade  him  good-night, 
and  returned  to  her  own  room. 

She  had  shown  the  same  disinclination  to  remain  any  longer  than 
was  necessary  in  the  captain's  company  throughout  the  three  days 
of  her  seclusion  in  the  house. 

During  all  that  time,  instead  of  appearing  to  weary  of  Mrs. 
Wragge's  society,  she  had  patiently,  almost  eagerly,  associated  her- 
self with  her  companion's  one  absorbing  pursuit.  She  who  had 
often  chafed  and  fretted  in  past  days  under  the  monotony  of  her 
life  in  the  freedom  of  Combe-Raven,  now  accepted  without  a  mur- 
mur the  monotony  of  her  life  at  Mrs.  Wragge's  work-table.  She 
who  had  hated  the  sight  of  her  needle  and  thread  in  old  times — 
who  had  never  yet  worn  an  article  of  dress  of  her  own  making — now 
toiled  as  anxiously  over  the  making  of  Mrs.  Wragge's  gown,  and 
bore  as  patiently  with  Mrs.  Wragge's  blunders,  as  if  the  sole  object 
of  her  existence  had  been  the  successful  completion  of  that  one  dress. 
Any  thing  was  welcome  to  her — the  trivial  difficulties  of  fitting  a 
gown :  the  small,  ceaseless  chatter  of  the  poor  half-witted  creature 
who  was  so  proud  of  her  assistance,  and  so  happy  in  her  company — 
any  thing  was  welcome  that  shut  her  out  from  the  coming  future, 
from  the  destiny  to  which  she  stood  self-condemned.  That  sorely- 
wounded  nature  was  soothed  by  such  a  trifle  now  as  the  grasp  of 
her  companion's  rough  and  friendly  hand — that  desolate  heart  was 
cheered,  when  night  parted  them,  by  Mrs.  Wragge's  kiss. 

The  captain's  isolated  position  in  the  house  produced  no  depress- 
ing effect  on  the  captain's  easy  and  equal  spirits.    Instead  of  reseat- 


NO    NAME.  339 

jng  Magdalen's  systematic  avoidance  of  his  society,  he  looked  to 
results,  and  highly  approved  of  it.  The  more  she  neglected  him 
for  his  wife,  the  more  directly  useful  she  became  in  the  character  of 
Mrs.  Wragge's  self-appointed  guardian.  He  had  more  than  once 
seriously  contemplated  revoking  the  concession  which  had  been  ex- 
torted from  him,  and  removing  his  wife,  at  his  own  sole  responsi- 
bility, out  of  harm's  way ;  and  he  had  only  abandoned  the  idea  on 
discovering  that  Magdalen's  resolution  to  keep  Mrs.  Wragge  in  her 
own  company  was  really  serious.  While  the  two  were  together,  his 
main  anxiety  was  set  at  rest.  They  kept  their  door  locked  by  his 
own  desire  while  he  was  out  of  the  house,  and,  whatever  Mrs. 
Wragge  might  do,  Magdalen  was  to  be  trusted  not  to  open  it  until 
he  came  back.  That  night  Captain  Wragge  enjoyed  his  cigar  with 
a  mind  at  ease,  and  sipped  his  brandy-and-water  in  happy  ignorance 
of  the  pitfall  which  Mrs.  Lecount  had  prepared  for  him  in  the 
morning. 

Punctually  at  seven  o'clock  Noel  Vanstone  made  his  appearance. 
The  moment  he  entered  the  room,  Captain  Wragge  detected  a 
change  in  his  visitor's  look  and  manner.  "  Something  wrong !" 
thought  the  captain.     "  We  have  not  done  with  Mrs.  Lecount  yet." 

"  How  is  Miss  Bygrave  this  morning  ?"  asked  Noel  Vanstone. 
"  Well  enough,  I  hope,  for  our  early  walk  ?"  His  half-closed  eyes, 
weak  and  watery  with  the  morning  light  and  the  morning  air,  look- 
ed about  the  room  furtively,  and  he  shifted  his  place  in  a  restless 
manner  from  one  chair  to  another,  as  he  made  those  polite  inquiries. 

"  My  niece  is  better — she  is  dressing  for  the  walk,"  replied  the 
captain,  steadily  observing  his  restless  little  friend  while  he  spoke. 
"  Mr.  Vanstone  !"  he  added,  on  a  sudden,  "  I  am  a  plain  Englishman 
— excuse  my  blunt  way  of  speaking  my  mind.  You  don't  meet  me 
this  morning  as  cordially  as  you  met  me  yesterday.  There  is  some- 
thing unsettled  in  your  face.  I  distrust  that  housekeeper  of  yours, 
sir !  Has  she  been  presuming  on  your  forbearance  ?  Has  she  been 
trying  to  poison  your  mind  against  me  or  my  niece  ?" 

If  Noel  Vanstone  had  obeyed  Mrs.  Lecount's  injunctions,  and  had 
kept  her  little  morsel  of  note-paper  folded  in  his  pocket  until  the 
time  came  to  use  it,  Captain  Wragge's  designedly  blunt  appeal 
might  not  have  found  him  unprepared  with  an  answer.  But  curi- 
osity had  got  the  better  of  him ;  he  had  opened  the  note  at  night, 
and  again  in  the  morning;  it  had  seriously  perplexed  and  startled 
him ;  and  it  had  left  his  mind  far  too  disturbed  to  allow  him  the 
possession  of  his  ordinary  resources.  He  hesitated ;  and  his  answer, 
when  he  succeeded  in  making  it,  began  with  a  prevarication. 

Captain  Wragge  stopped  him  before  he  had  got  beyond  his  first 
sentence. 
11  Pardon  me,  sir,"  said  the  captain,  in  his  loftiest  manner.    "  II 


340  NO   NAME. 

you  have  secrets  to  keep,  you  have  only  to  say  so,  and  I  have  done. 
I  intrude  on  no  rutin's  secrets.  At  the  same  time,  Mr.  Vanstone,  you 
must  allow  me  to  recall  to  your  memory  that  I  met  you  yesterday 
without  any  reserves  on  my  side.  I  admitted  you  to  my  frankest 
and  fullest  confidence,  sir— and,  highly  as  I  prize  the  advantages 
of  your  society,  I  can't  consent  to  cultivate  your  friendship  on  any 
other  than  equal  terms."  He  threw  open  his  respectable  frock-coat, 
and  surveyed  his  visitor  with  a  manly  and  virtuous  severity. 

"  I  mean  no  offense  !"  cried  Noel  Vanstone,  piteously.  "  Why  do 
you  interrupt  me,  Mr.  Bygrave  ?  Why  don't  you  let  me  explain  ?  I 
mean  no  offense." 

"  No  offense  is  taken,  sir,"  said  the  captain.  "  You  have  a  perfect 
right  to  the  exercise  of  your  own  discretion.  I  am  not  offended — 
I  only  claim  for  myself  the  same  privilege  which  I  accord  to  you." 
He  rose  with  great  dignity  and  rang  the  bell.  "  Tell  Miss  Bygrave," 
he  said  to  the  servant,  "  that  our  walk  this  morning  is  put  off  until 
another  opportunity,  and  that  I  won't  trouble  her  to  come  down 
stairs." 

This  strong  proceeding  had  the  desired  effect.  Noel  Vanstone 
vehemently  pleaded  for  a  moment's  private  conversation  before  the 
message  was  delivered.  Captain  Wragge's  severity  partially  re- 
laxed. He  sent  the  servant  cfown  stairs  again,  and,  resuming  his 
chair,  waited  confidently  for  results.  In  calculating  the  facilities 
for  practicing  on  his  visitor's  weakness,  he  had  one  great  superiority 
over  Mrs.  Lecount.  His  judgment  was  not  warped  by  latent  female 
jealousies,  and  he  avoided  the  error  into  which  the  housekeeper 
had  fallen,  self-deluded — the  error  of  underrating  the  impression  on 
Noel  Vanstone  that  Magdalen  had  produced.  One  of  the  forces  in 
this  world  which  no  middle-aged  woman  is  capable  of  estimating 
at  its  full  value,  when  it  acts  against  her,  is  the  force  of  beauty  in  a 
woman  younger  than  herself. 

"  You  are  so  hasty,  Mr.  Bygrave — you  won't  give  me  tune— you 
won't  wait  and  hear  what  I  have  to  say  !"  cried  Noel  Vanstone,  pite- 
ously, when  the  servant  had  closed  the  parlor  door. 

"  My  family  failing,  sir — the  blood  of  the  Bygraves.  Accept  my 
excuses.     We  are  alone,  as  you  wished ;  pray  proceed." 

Placed  between  the  alternatives  of  losing  Magdalen's  society 
or  betraying  Mrs.  Lecount,  unenlightened  by  any  suspicion  of  the 
housekeeper's  ultimate  object,  cowed  by  the  immovable  scrutiny 
of  Captain  Wragge's  inquiring  eye,  Noel  Vanstone  was  not  long  in 
making  his  choice.  He  confusedly  described  his  singular  interview 
of  the  previous  evening  with  Mrs.  Lecount,  and,  taking  the  folded 
jpaper  from  his  pocket,  placed  it  in  the  captain's  hand. 

A  suspicion  of  the  truth  dawned  on  Captain  Wragge's  mind  the 
moment  he  saw  the  mysterious  note.     He  withdrew  to  the  window 


NO   NAME.  341 

before  he  opened  it.  The  first  lines  that  attracted  his  attention 
were  these :  "  Oblige  me,  Mr.  Noel,  by  comparing  the  young  lady 
who  is  now  in  your  company  with  the  personal  description  which 
follows  these  lines,  and  which  has  been  communicated  to  me  by  a 
friend.  You  shall  know  the  name  of  the  person  described — which 
I  have  left  a  blank — as  soon  as  the  evidence  of  your  own  eyes  has 
forced  you  to  believe  what  you  would  refuse  to  credit  on  the  unsup 
ported  testimony  of  Virginie  Lecount." 

That  was  enough  for  the  captain.  Before  he  had  read  a  word 
of  the  description  itself,  he  knew  what  Mrs.  Lecount  had  done,  and 
felt,  with  a  profound  sense  of  humiliation,  that  his  female  enemy 
had  taken  him  by  surprise. 

There  was  no  time  to  think  ;  the  whole  enterprise  was  threatened 
with  irrevocable  overthrow.  The  one  resource  in  Captain  Wragge's 
present  situation  was  to  act  instantly  on  the  first  impulse  of  his  own 
audacity.  Line  by  line  he  read  on,  and  still  the  ready  inventive- 
ness which  had  never  deserted  him  yet  failed  to  answer  the  call 
made  on  it  now.  He  came  to  the  closing  sentence  —  to  the  last 
words  which  mentioned  the  two  little  moles  on  Magdalen's  neck. 
At  that  crowning  point  of  the  description,  an  idea  crossed  his  mind ; 
his  party-colored  eyes  twinkled ;  his  curly  lips  twisted  up  at  the 
corners ;  Wragge  was  himself  again. 

He  wheeled  round  suddenly  from  the  window,  and  looked  Noel 
Vanstone  straight  in  the  face  with  a  grimly-quiet  suggestiveness  of 
something  serious  to  come. 

"  Pray,  sir,  do  you  happen  to  know  any  thing  of  Mrs.  Lecount's 
family?1'  he  inquired. 

"  A  respectable  family,"  said  Noel  Vanstone — "  that's  all  I  know. 
Why  do  you  ask  ?" 

"I  am  not  usually  a  betting  man,"  pursued  Captain  Wragge. 
"  But  on  this  occasion  I  will  lay  you  any  wager  you  like  there  is 
madness  in  your  housekeeper's  family." 

"Madness  !"  repeated  Noel  Vanstone,  amazedly. 

"  Madness !"  reiterated  the  captain,  sternly  tapping  the  note  with 
his  forefinger.  "  I  see  the  cunning'  of  insanity,  the  suspicion  of  in- 
sanity, the  feline  treachery  of  insanity  in  every  line  of  this  deplora- 
ble document.  There  is  a  far  more  alarming  reason,  sir,  than  I  had 
supposed  for  Mrs.  Lecount's  behavior  to  my  niece.  It  is  clear  to  me 
that  Miss  Bygrave  resembles  some  other  lady  who  has  seriously 
offended  your  housekeeper— who  has  been  formerly  connected,  per- 
haps, with  an  outbreak  of  insanity  in  your  housekeeper — and  who 
is  now  evidently  confused  with  my  niece  in  your  housekeeper's 
wandering  mind.  That  is  my  conviction,  Mr.  Vanstone.  I  may 
be  right,  or  I  may  be  wrong.  All  I  say  is  this  —  neither  you,  nor 
any  man,  can  assign  a  sane  motive  for  the  production  of  that  in 


342  NO    NAME. 

comprehensible  document,  and  for  the  use  which  you  are  requested 
to  make  of  it." 

"  I  don't  think  Lecount's  mad,"  said  Noel  Vanstone,  with  a  very 
blank  look,  and  a  very  discomposed  manner.  "  It  couldn't  have  es- 
caped me,  with  my  habits  of  observation ;  it  couldn't  possibly  have 
escaped  me  if  Lecount  had  been  mad." 

"Very  good,  my  dear  sir.  In  my  opinion,  she  is  the  subject  of 
an  insane  delusion.  In  your  opinion,  she  is  in  possession  of  her 
senses,  and  has  some  mysterious  motive  which  neither  you  nor  I 
can  fathom.  Either  way,  there  can  be  no  harm  in  putting  Mrs.  Le- 
count's  description  to  the  test,  not  only  as  a  matter  of  curiosity,  but 
for  our  own  private  satisfaction  on  both  sides.  It  is  of  course  im- 
possible to  tell  my  niece  that  she  is  to  be  made  the  subject  of  such 
a  preposterous  experiment  as  that  note  of  yours  suggests.  But  you 
can  use  your  own  eyes,  Mr.  Vanstone ;  you  can  keep  your  own  coun- 
sel; and — mad  or  not — you  can  at  least  tell  your  housekeeper,  on 
the  testimony  of  your  own  senses,  that  she  is  wrong.  Let  me  look 
at  the  description  again.  The  greater  part  of  it  is  not  worth  two 
straws  for  any  purpose  of  identification ;  hundreds  of  young  ladies 
have  tall  figures,  fair  complexions,  light  brown  hair,  and  light  gray 
eyes.  You  will  say,  on  the  other  hand,  hundreds  of  young  ladies 
have  not  got  two  little  moles  close  together  on  the  left  side  of  the 
neck.  Quite  true.  The  moles  supply  us  with  what  we. scientific 
men  call  a  Crucial  Test.  When  my  niece  comes  down  stairs,  sir,  you 
have  my  full  permission  to  take  the  liberty  of  looking  at  her  neck." 

Noel  Vanstone  expressed  his  high  approval  of  the  Crucial  Test  by 
smirking  and  simpering  for  the  first  time  that  morning. 

"  Of  looking  at  her  neck,"  repeated  the  captain,  returning  the 
note  to  his  visitor,  and  then  making  for  the  door.  "  I  will  go  up 
stairs  myself,  Mr.  Vanstone,"  he  continued,  "  and  inspect  Miss  By- 
grave's  walking-dress.  If  she  has  innocently  placed  any  obstacles 
in  your  way,  if  her  hair  is  a  little  too  low,  or  her  frill  is  a  little  too 
high,  I  will  exert  my  authority,  on  the  first  harmless  pretext  I  can 
think  of,  to  have  those  obstacles  removed.  All  I  ask  is,  that  you 
will  choose  your  opportunity  discreetly,  and  that  you  will  not  allow 
my  niece  to  suppose  that  her  neck  is  the  object  of  a  gentleman's 
inspection." 

The  moment  he  was  out  of  the  parlor  Captain  Wragge  ascended 
the  stairs  at  the  top  of  his  speed  and  knocked  at  Magdalen's  door. 
She  opened  it  to  him  in  her  walking-dress,  obedient  to  the  signal 
agreed  on  between  them  which  summoned  her  down  stairs. 

"  What  have  you  done  with  your  paints  and  powders  ?"  asked  the 
captain,  without  wasting  a  word  in  preliminary  explanations.  "  They 
were  not  in  the  box  of  costumes  which  I  sold  for  you  at  Birmingham, 
Where  are  they  ?" 


•MY    COLOR    WILL. 


NO   NAME.  345 

"  I  have  got  them  here,"  replied  Magdalen.  "  What  can  you  pos- 
sibly mean  I  >y  wanting  them  now  ?" 

"  Bring  them  instantly  into  my  dressing-room — the  whole  collec- 
tion, brushes,  palette,  and  every  thing.  Don't  waste  time  in  asking 
questions;  I'll  tell  you  what  has  happened  as  we  go  on.  Every 
moment  is  precious  to  us.     Follow  me  instantly !" 

His  face  plainly  showed  that  there  was  a  serious  reason  for  his 
strange  proposal.  Magdalen  secured  her  collection  of  cosmetics, 
and  followed  him  into  the  dressing-room.  He  locked  the  door, 
placed  her  on  a  chair  close  to  the  light,  and  then  told  her  what  had 
happened. 

"  We  are  on  the  brink  of  detection,"  proceeded  the  captain,  care- 
fully mixing  his  colors  with  liquid  glue,  and  with  a  strong  "  drier  " 
added  from  a  bottle  in  his  own  possession.  "There  is  only  one 
chance  for  us  (lift  up  your  hair  from  the  left  side  of  your  neck) — I 
have  told  Mr.  Noel  Vanstone  to  take  a  private  opportunity  of  look- 
ing at  you ;  and  I  am  going  to  give  the  lie  direct  to  that  she-devil 
Lecount  by  painting  out  your  moles." 

"  They  can't  be  painted  out,"  said  Magdalen.  "  No  color  will  stop 
on  them." 

"  My  color  will,"  remarked  Captain  Wragge.  "  I  have  tried  a  va- 
riety of  professions  in  my  time — the  profession  of  painting  among 
the  rest.  Did  you  ever  hear  of  such  a  thing  as  a  Black  Eye  ?  I  lived 
some  months  once  in  the  neighborhood  of  Drury  Lane  entirely  on 
Black  Eyes.  My  flesh-color  stood  on  bruises  of  all  sorts,  shades,  and 
sizes,  and  it  will  stand,  I  promise  you,  on  your  moles." 

With  this  assurance,  the  captain  dipped  his  brush  into  a  tittle  lump 
of  opaque  color  which  he  had  mixed  in  a  saucer,  and  which  he  had 
graduated  as  nearly  as  the  materials  would  permit,  to  the  color  of 
Magdalen's  skin.  After  first  passing  a  cambric  handkerchief,  with 
some  white  powder  on  it,  over  the  part  of  her  neck  on  which  he  de- 
signed to  operate,  he  placed  two  layers  of  color  on  the  moles  with 
the  tip  of  the  brush.  The  process  was  performed  in  a  few  moments, 
and  the  moles,  as  if  by  magic,  disappeared  from  view.  Nothing  but 
the  closest  inspection  could  have  discovered  the  artifice  by  which 
they  had  been  concealed :  at  the  distance  of  two  or  three  feet  only, 
it  was  perfectly  invisible. 

"  Wait  here  five  minutes,"  said  Captain  Wragge,  "to  let  the  paint 
dry — and  then  join  us  in  the  parlor.  Mrs.  Lecount  herself  would  be 
puzzled  if  she  looked  at  you  now." 

"  Stop  !"  said  Magdalen.  "  There  is  one  thing  you  have  not  told 
me  yet.  How  did  Mrs.  Lecount  get  the  description  which  you  read 
down  stairs  ?  Whatever  else  she  has  seen  of  me,  she  has  not  seen 
the  mark  on  my  neck — it  is  too  far  back,  and  too  high  up ;  my  hair 
hides  it." 


346  NO  NAME. 

"  Who  knows  of  the  mark  ?"  asked  Captain  Wragge. 

She  turned  deadly  pale  under  the  anguish  of  a  sudden  recollec- 
tion of  Frank. 

"  My  sister  knows  it,"  she  said,  faintly. 

"  Mrs.  Lecount  may  have  written  to  your  sister,"  suggested  the 
captain. 

"  Do  you  think  my  sister  would  tell  a  stranger  what  no  stranger 
has  a  right  to  know  ?     Never !  never !" 

"  Is  there  nobody  else  who  could  tell  Mrs.  Lecount  ?  The  mark 
was  mentioned  in  the  handbills  at  York.     Who  put  it  there  ?" 

"Not  Norah  !     Perhaps  Mr.  Pendril.     Perhaps  Miss  Garth." 

"  Then  Mrs.  Lecount  has  written  to  Mr.  Pendril  or  Miss  Garth — 
more  likely  to  Miss  Garth.  The  governess  would  be  easier  to  deal 
with  than  the  lawyer." 

"  What  can  she  have  said  to  Miss  Garth  ?" 

Captain  Wragge  considered  a  little. 

"  I  can't  say  what  Mrs.  Lecount  may  have  written,"  he  said,  "but 
I  can  tell  you  what  I  should  have  written  in  Mrs.  Lecount's  place. 
I  should  have  frightened  Miss  Garth  by  false  reports  about  you,  to 
begin  with,  and  then  I  should  have  asked  for  personal  particulars,  to 
help  a  benevolent  stranger  in  restoring  you  to  your  friends." 

The  angry  glitter  flashed  up  instantly  in  Magdalen's  eyes. 

"  What  you  would  have  done  is  what  Mrs.  Lecount  has  done,"  she 
said,  indignantly.  "  Neither  lawyer  nor  governess  shall  dispute  my 
right  to  my  own  will  and  my  own  way.  If  Miss  Garth  thinks  she 
can  control  my  actions  by  corresponding  with  Mrs.  Lecount,  I  will 
show  Miss  Garth  she  is  mistaken !  It  is  high  time,  Captain  Wragge, 
to  have  done  with  these  wretched  risks  of  discovery.  We  will  take 
the  short  way  to  the  end  we  have  in  view  sooner  than  Mrs.  Lecount 
or  Miss  Garth  think  for.  How  long  can  you  give  me  to  wring  an 
offer  of  marriage  out  of  that  creature  down  stairs  ?" 

"  I  dare  not  give  you  long,"  replied  Captain  Wragge.  "  Now  your 
friends  know  where  you  are,  they  may  come  down  on  us  at  a  day's 
notice.     Could  you  manage  it  in  a  week  ?" 

"  I'll  manage  it  in  half  the  time,"  she  said,  with  a  hard,  defiant 
laugh.  "  Leave  us  together  this  morning  as  you  left  us  at  Dunwich, 
and  take  Mrs.  Wragge  with  you,  as  an  excuse  for  parting  company. 
Is  the  paint  dry  yet  ?  Go  down  stairs,  and  tell  him  I  am  coming  di- 
rectly." 

So,  for  the  second  time,  Miss  Garth's  well-meant  efforts  defeated 
their  own  end.  So  the  fatal  force  of  circumstance  turned  the  hand  that 
would  fain  have  held  Magdalen  back  into  the  hand  that  drove  her  on. 

The  captain  returned  to  his  visitor  in  the  parlor,  after  first  stop- 
ping on  his  way  to  issue  his  orders  for  the  walking  excursion  to 
Mrs.  Wragge. 


NO   NAME.  347 

"  I  am  shocked  to  have  kept  you  waiting,"  he  said,  sitting  down 
again  confidentially  by  Noel  Vanstone's  side.  "My  only  excuse  is, 
that  my  niece  had  accidentally  dressed  her  hair  so  as  to  del'eat  our 
object.  I  have  been  persuading  her  to  alter  it,  and  young  ladies  are 
apt  to  be  a  little  obstinate  on  questions  relating  to  their  toilet.  Give 
her  a  chair  on  that  side  of  you  when  she  conies  in,  and  take  your 
look  at  her  neck  comfortably  before  we  start  for  our  walk." 

Magdalen  entered  the  room  as  he  said  those  words,  and,  after  the 
first  greetings  were  exchanged,  took  the  chair  presented  to  her  with 
the  most  unsuspicious  readiness.  Noel  Vanstone  applied  the  Crucial 
Test  on  the  spot,  with  the  highest  appreciation  of  the  fair  material 
which  was  the  subject  of  experiment.  Not  the  vestige  of  a  mole  was 
visible  on  any  part  of  the  smooth  white  surface  of  Miss  Bygrave's 
neck.  It  mutely  answered  the  blinking  inquiry  of  Noel  Vanstone's 
half-closed  eyes  by  the  flattest  practical  contradiction  of  Mrs.  Le- 
count.  That  one  central  incident  in  the  events  of  the  morning  was, 
of  all  the  incidents  that  had  hitherto  occurred,  the  most  important 
in  its  results.  That  one  discovery  shook  the  housekeeper's  hold  on 
her  master  as  nothing  had  shaken  it  yet. 

In  a  few  minutes  Mrs.  Wragge  made  her  appearance,  and  excited 
as  much  surprise  in  Noel  Vanstone's  mind  as  he  was  capable  of  feel- 
ing while  absorbed  in  the  enjoyment  of  Magdalen's  society.  The 
walking-party  left  the  house  at  once,  directing  their  steps  north- 
ward, so  as  not  to  pass  the  windows  of  Sea-view  Cottage.  To  Mrs. 
Wragge's  unutterable  astonishment,  her  husband,  for  the  first  time 
in  the  course  of  their  married  life,  politely  offered  her  his  arm,  and 
led  her  on  in  advance  of  the  young  people,  as  if  the  privilege  of 
walking  alone  with  her  presented  some  special  attraction  to  him ! 
"  Step  out !"  whispered  the  captain,  fiercely.  "  Leave  your  niece 
and  Mr.  Vanstone  alone  !  If  I  catch  you  looking  back  at  them,  I'll 
put  the  Oriental  Cashmere  Robe  on  the  top  of  the  kitchen  fire  ! 
Turn  your  toes  out,  and  keep  step  —  confound  you,  keep  step !" 
Mrs.  Wragge  kept  step  to  the  best  of  her  limited  ability.  Her  sturdy 
knees  trembled  under  her.  She  firmly  believed  the  captain  was  in- 
toxicated. 

The  walk  lasted  for  rather  more  than  an  hour.  Before  nine 
o'clock  they  were  all  back  again  at  North  Shingles.  The  ladies 
went  at  once  into  the  house.  Noel  Vanstone  remained  with  Captain 
Wragge  in  the  garden. 

"  Well,"  said  the  captain,  "  what  do  you  think  now  of  Mrs.  Le- 
count  ?" 

"  Damn  Lecount !"  replied  Noel  Vanstone,  in  great  agitation. 
"  I'm  half  inclined  to  agree  with  you.  I'm  half  inclined  to  think 
my  infernal  housekeeper  is  mad.'' 

He  spoke  fretfully  and  unwillingly,  as  if  the  merest  allusion  to 


348  NO   NAME. 

Mrs.  Lecounr  was  distasteful  to  him.  His  color  came  and  went; 
his  manner  was  absent  and  undecided ;  he  fidgeted  restlessly  about 
the  garden  walk.  It  would  have  been  plain  to  a  far  less  acute 
observation  than  Captain  Wragge's,  that  Magdalen  had  met  his  ad- 
vances by  an  unexpected  grace  and  readiness  of  encouragement 
which  had  entirely  overthrown  his  self-control. 

"  I  never  enjoyed  a  walk  so  much  in  my  life  !"  he  exclaimed,  with 
a  sudden  outburst  of  enthusiasm.  "  I  hope  Miss  Bygrave  feels  all 
the  better  for  it.  Do  you  go  out  at  the  same  time  to-morrow  morn- 
ing ?     May  I  join  you  again  ?" 

"  By  all  means,  Mr.  Yanstone,"  said  the  captain,  cordially.  "  Ex- 
cuse me  for  returning  to  the  subject — but  what  do  you  propose  say- 
ing to  Mrs.  Lecount  ?" 

"  I  don't  know.  Lecount  is  a  perfect  nuisance !  What  would 
you  do,  Mr.  Bygrave,  if  you  were  in  my  place  ?" 

"Allow  me  to  ask  a  question,  my  dear  sir,  before  I  tell  you. 
What  is  your  breakfast-hour  ?" 

"  Half-past  nine." 

"  Is  Mrs.  Lecount  an  early  riser  ?" 

"  No.  Lecount  is  lazy  in  the  morning.  I  hate  lazy  women !  If 
you  were  in  my  place,  what  should  you  say  to  her  ?" 

"  I  should  say  nothing,"  replied  Captain  Wragge.  "  I  should  re- 
turn at  once  by  the  back  way ;  I  should  let  Mrs.  Lecount  see  me  in 
the  front  garden  as  if  I  was  taking  a  turn  before  breakfast ;  and  I 
should  leave  her  to  suppose  that  I  was  only  just  out  of  my  room. 
If  she  asks  you  whether  you  mean  to  come  here  to-day,  say  No. 
Secure  a  quiet  life  until  circumstances  force  you  to  give  her  an 
answer.  Then  tell  the  plain  truth  —  say  that  Mr.  Bygrave's  niece 
and  Mrs.  Lecount's  description  are  at  variance  with  each  other  in 
the  most  important  particular,  and  beg  that  the  subject  may  not  be 
mentioned  again.     There  is  my  advice.    What  do  you  think  of  it  ?" 

If  Noel  Vanstone  could  have  looked  into  his  counselor's  mind, 
he  might  have  thought  the  captain's  advice  excellently  adapted  to  i 
serve  the  captain's  interests.    As  loug  as  Mrs.  Lecount  could  be  kept 
in  ignorance  of  her  master's  visits  to  North  Shingles,  so  long  she 
would  wait  until  the  opportunity  came  for  trying  her  experiment, 
and  so  long  she  might  be  trusted  not  to  endanger  the  conspiracy) 
by  any  further  proceedings.     Necessarily  incapable  of  viewing  Cap  i 
tain  Wragge's  advice  under  this  aspect,  Noel  Vanstone  simply  look 
cd  at  it  as  offering  him  a  temporary  means  of  escajie  from  an  expla 
nation  with  his  housekeeper.     He  eagerly  declared  that  the  coursi 
of  action  suggested  to  him  should  he  followed  to  the  letter,  and  rtj 
turned  to  Sea  View  without  further  delay. 

On  this  occasion  Captain  Wragge's  anticipations  were  in  no  r<| 
spect  falsified  by  Mrs.  Lecount's  conduct.     She  had  no  suspicion  o 


NO    NAME.  349 

her  master's  visit  to  North  Shingles;  she  had  made  up  her  mind, 
if  necessary,  to  wait  patiently  for  his  interview  with  Miss  Bygrave 
until  the  end  of  the  week ;  and  she  did  not  embarrass  him  by  any 
unexpected  questions  when  he  announced  his  intention  of  holding 
no  personal  communication  with  the  Bygraves  on  that  day.  All 
she  said  was,  "  Don't  you  feel  well  enough,  Mr.  Noel  ?  or  don't  you 
feel  inclined  ?"  He  answered,  shortly,  "  I  don't  feel  well  enough  ;" 
and  there  the  conversation  ended. 

The  next  day  the  proceedings  of  the  previous  morning  were  ex- 
actly repeated.  This  time  Noel  Vanstone  went  home  rapturously 
with  a  keepsake  in  his  breast-pocket :  he  had  taken  tender  posses- 
sion of  one  of  Miss  Bygrave's  gloves.  At  intervals  during  the  day, 
whenever  he  was  alone,  he  took  out  the  glove  and  kissed  it  with  a 
devotion  which  was  almost  passionate  in  its  fervor.  The  miserable 
little  creature  luxuriated  in  his  moments  of  stolen  happiness  with  a 
speechless  and  stealthy  delight  which  was  a  new  sensation  to  him. 
The  few  young  girls  whom  he  had  met  with,  in  his  father's  narrow 
circle  at  Zurich,  had  felt  a  mischievous  pleasure  in  treating  him  like 
a  quaint  little  plaything;  the  strongest  impression  he  could  make 
on  their  hearts  was  an  impression  in  which  their  lap-dogs  might 
have  rivaled  him ;  the  deepest  interest  he  could  create  in  them  was 
the  interest  they  might  have  felt  in  a  new  trinket  or  a  new  dress. 
The  only  women  who  had  hitherto  invited  his  admiration,  and  taken 
his  compliments  seriously,  had  been  women  whose  charms  were  on 
the  wane,  and  whose  chances  of  marriage  were  fast  failing  them. 
For  the  first  time  in  his  life  he  had  now  passed  hours  of  happiness 
in  the  society  of  a  beautiful  girl,  who  had  left  him  to  think  of  her 
afterward  without  a  single  humiliating  remembrance  to  lower  him 
in  his  own  esteem. 

Anxiously  as  he  tried  to  hide  it,  the  change  produced  in  his  look 
and  manner  by  the  new  feeling  awakened  in  him  was  not  a  change 
which  could  be  concealed  fi'om  Mrs.  Lecount.  On  the  second  day 
she  pointedly  asked  him  whether  he  had  not  made  an  arrangement 
to  call  on  the  Bygraves.  He  denied  it  as  before.  "  Perhaps  you 
are  going  to-morrow,  Mr.  Noel?"  persisted  the  housekeeper.  He 
was  at  the  end  of  his  resources ;  he  was  impatient  to  be  rid  of  her 
inquiries ;  he  trusted  to  his  friend  at  North  Shingles  to  help  him ; 
and  this  time  he  answered  Yes.  "  If  you  see  the  young  lady,"  pro- 
ceeded Mrs.  Lecount,  "  don't  forget  that  note  of  mine,  sir,  which  you 
have  in  your  waistcoat-pocket."  No  more  was  said  on  either  side, 
but  by  that  night's  post  the  housekeeper  wrote  to  Miss  Garth. 
The  letter  merely  acknowledged,  with  thanks,  the  receipt  of  Miss 
Garth's  communication,  and  informed  her  that  in  a  few  days  Mrs. 
Lecount  hoped  to  be  in  a  position  to  write  again,  and  summon  Mr. 
Pendril  to  Aldborough. 


350  NO   NAME. 

Late  in  the  evening,  when  the  parlor  at  North  Shingles  began  to 
get  dark,  and  when  the  captain  rang  the  bell  for  candles  as  usual, 
he  was  surprised  by  hearing  Magdalen's  voice  in  the  passage  telling 
the  servant  to  take  the  lights  down  stairs  again.  She  knocked  at 
the  door  immediately  afterward,  and  glided  into  the  obscurity  of 
the  room  like  a  ghost. 

"  I  have  a  question  to  ask  you  about  your  plans  for  to-morrow," 
she  said.  "  My  eyes  are  very  weak  this  evening,  and  I  hope  you 
will  not  object  to  dispense  with  the  candles  for  a  few  minutes." 

She  spoke  in  low,  stifled  tones,  and  felt  her  way  noiselessly  to  a 
chair  far  removed  from  the  cajitain  in  the  darkest  part  of  the  room. 
Sitting  near  the  window,  he  could  just  discern  the  dim  outline  of 
her  dress,  he  could  just  hear  the  faint  accents  of  her  voice.  For 
the  last  two  days  he  had  seen  nothing  of  her  except  during  their 
morning  walk.  On  that  afternoon  he  had  found  his  wife  crying  in 
the  little  backroom  down  stairs.  She  could  only  tell  him  that  Mag- 
dalen had  frightened  her — that  Magdalen  was  going  the  way  again 
which  she  had  gone  when  the  letter  came  from  China  in  the  terri- 
ble past  time  at  Vauxhall  Walk. 

"  I  was  sorry  to  hear  that  you  were  ill  to-day,  from  Mrs.  Wragge," 
said  the  captain,  unconsciously  dropping  his  voice  almost  to  a 
whisper  as  he  spoke. 

"It  doesn't  matter,"  she  answered  quietly,  out  of  the  darkness. 
"  I  am  strong  enough  to  suffer,  and  live.  Other  girls  in  my  place 
would  have  been  happier — they  would  have  suffered,  and  died.  It 
doesn't  matter ;  it  will  be  all  the  same  a  hundred  years  hence.  Is 
he  coming  again  to-morrow  morning  at  seven  o'clock  ?" 

"  He  is  coming,  if  you  feel  no  objection  to  it." 

"  I  have  no  objection  to  make ;  I  have  done  with  objecting.  But 
I  should  like  to  have  the  time  altered.  I  don't  look  my  best  in  the 
early  morning — I  have  bad  nights,  and  I  rise  haggard  and  worn. 
Write  him  a  note  this  evening,  and  tell  him  to  come  at  twelve 
o'clock." 

"  Twelve  is  rather  late,  under  the  circumstances,  for  you  to  be 
seen  out  walking." 

"I  have  no  intention  of  walking.  Let  him  be  shown  into  the 
parlor — " 

Her  voice  died  away  in  silence  before  she  ended  the  sentence. 

"  Yes  ?"  said  Captain  Wragge. 

"  And  leave  me  alone  in  the  parlor  to  receive  him." 

"I  understand,"  said  the  captain.  "An  admirable  idea.  I'll  be 
out  of  the  way  in  the  dining-room  while  he  is  here,  and  you  can 
come  and  tell  me  about  it  when  he  has  gone." 

There  was  another  moment  of  silence. 

"  Is  there  no  way  but  telling  you  ?"  she  asked,  suddenly.     "  I  can 


NO  namb.  :<:>! 

control  myself  while  he  is  with  me,  but  I  can't  answer  for  what  I 
may  say  or  do  afterward.     Is  there  no  other  way  ?" 

"  Plenty  of  ways,"  said  the  captain.  "  Here  is  the  first  that  oc- 
curs to  me.  Leave  the  blind  down  over  the  window  of  your  room 
up  stairs  before  he  comes.  I  will  go  out  on  the  beach,  and  wait 
there  within  sight  of  the  house.  When  I  see  him  come  out  again, 
I  will  look  at  the  window.  If  he  has  said  nothing,  leave  the  blind 
down.  If  he  has  made  you  an  offer,  draw  the  blind  up.  The  sig- 
nal is  simplicity  itself;  we  can't  misunderstand  each  other.  Look 
your  best  to-morrow !  Make  sure  of  him,  my  dear  girl— make  sure 
of  him,  if  you  possibly  can." 

He  had  spoken  loud  enough  to  feel  certain  that  she  had  heard 
him,  but  no  answering  word  came  from  her.  The  dead  silence 
was  only  disturbed  by  the  rustling  of  her  dress,  which  told  him  she 
had  risen  from  her  chair.  Her  shadowy  presence  crossed  the  room 
again ;  the  door  shut  softly ;  she  was  gone.  He  rang  the  bell  hur- 
riedly for  the  lights.  The  servant  found  him  standing  close  at  the 
window,  looking  less  self-possessed  than  usual.  He  told  her  he  felt 
a  little  poorly,  and  sent  her  to  the  cupboard  for  the  brandy. 

At  a  few  minutes  before  twelve  the  next  day  Captain  Wragge 
withdrew  to  his  post  of  observation,  concealing  himself  behind  a 
fishing-boat  drawn  up  on  the  beach.  Punctually  as  the  hour  struck, 
he  saw  Noel  Vanstone  approach  North  Shingles  and  open  the  gar- 
den gate.  When  the  house  door  had  closed  on  the  visitor,  Captain 
Wragge  settled  himself  comfortably  against  the  side  of  the  boat  and 
Ut  his  cigar. 

He  smoked  for  half  an  hour — for  ten  minutes  over  the  half-hour, 
by  his  watch.  He  finished  the  cigar  down  to  the  last  morsel  of  it 
that  he  could  hold  in  his  lips.  Just  as  he  had  thrown  away  the 
end,  the  door  opened  again,  and  Noel  Vanstone  came  out. 

The  captain  looked  up  instantly  at  Magdalen's  window.  In  the 
absorbing  excitement  of  the  moment,  he  counted  the  seconds.  She 
might  get  from  the  parlor  to  her  own  room  in  less  than  a  minute. 
He  counted  to  thirty,  and  nothing  happened.  He  counted  to  fifty, 
and  nothing  happened.  He  gave  up  counting,  and  left  the  boat 
impatiently,  to  return  to  the  house. 

As  he  took  his  first  step  forward  he  saw  the  signal. 

The  blind  was  drawn  up. 

Cautiously  ascending  the  eminence  of  the  beach,  Captain  Wragge 
looked  toward  Sea-view  Cottage  before  he  showed  himself  on  the 
Parade.  Noel  Vanstone  had  reached  home  again :  he  was  just  en- 
tering his  own  door. 

"  If  all  your  money  was  offered  me  to  stand  in  your  shoes,"  said 
the  captain, looking  after  him  —  "rich  as  you  are, I  wouldn't  take 
it!" 


352  NO  NAME. 


CHAPTER  Vin. 

On  returning  to  the  house,  Captain  Wragge  received  a  significant 
message  from  the  servant.  "  Mr.  Noel  Vanstone  would  call  again 
at  two  o'clock  that  afternoon,  when  he  hoped  to  have  the  pleasure 
of  finding  Mr.  Bygrave  at  home." 

The  captain's  first  inquiry  after  hearing  this  message  referred  to 
Magdalen.  "  Where  was  Miss  Bygrave  ?"  "  In  her  own  room." 
"  Where  was  Mrs.  Bygrave  ?"  "  In  the  back  parlor."  Captain 
Wragge  turned  his  steps  at  once  in  the  latter  direction,  and  found 
his  wife,  for  the  sesond  time,  in  tears.  She  had  been  sent  out  of 
Magdalen's  room  for  the  whole  day,  and  she  was  at  her  wits'  end  to 
know  what  she  had  done  to  deserve  it.  Shortening  her  lamenta- 
tions without  ceremony,  her  husband  sent  her  up  stairs  on  the  spot, 
with  instructions  to  knock  at  the  door,  and  to  inquire  whether  Mag- 
dalen could  give  five  minutes'  attention  to  a  question  of  importance 
which  must  be  settled  before  two  o'clock. 

The  answer  returned  was  in  the  negative.  Magdalen  requested 
that  the  subject  on  which  she  was  asked  to  decide  might  be  men- 
tioned to  her  in  writing.  She  engaged  to  reply  in  the  same  way, 
on  the  understanding  that  Mrs.  Wragge,  and  not  the  servant,  should 
be  employed  to  deliver  the  note,  and  to  take  back  the  answer. 

Captain  Wragge  forthwith  opened  his  paper-case  and  wrote  these 
lines :  "  Accept  my  warmest  congratulations  on  the  result  of  your 
interview  with  Mr.  N.  V.  He  is  coming  again  at  two  o'clock — no 
doubt  to  make  his  proposals  in  due  form.  The  question  to  decide 
is,  whether  I  shall  press  him  or  not  on  the  subject  of  settlements. 
The  considerations  for  your  own  mind  are  two  in  number.  First, 
whether  the  said  pressure  (without  at  all  underrating  your  influence 
over  him)  may  not  squeeze  for  a  long  time  before  it  squeezes  money 
out  of  Mr.  N.  V.  Secondly,  whether  we  are  altogether  justified — 
considering  our  present  position  toward  a  certain  sharp  practitioner 
in  petticoats — in  running  the  risk  of  delay.  Consider  these  points, 
and  let  me  have  your  decision  as  soon  as  convenient." 

The  answer  returned  to  this  note  was  written  in  crooked,  blotted 
characters,  strangely  unlike  Magdalen's  usually  firm  and  clear  hand- 
writing. It  only  contained  these  words :  "  Give  yourself  no  trouble 
about  settlements.  Leave  the  use  to  which  he  is  to  put  his  money 
for  the  future  in  my  hands." 

"  Did  you  see  her  ?"  asked  the  captain,  when  his  wife  had  deliv 
ered  the  answer. 


NO    NAME.  353 

"I  tried,"  said  Mrs.  Wragge,  with  a  fresh  burst  of  tears — "but 
she  only  opened  the  door  far  enough  to  put  out  her  hand.  I  took 
and  gave  it  a  little  squeeze  —  and,  oh  poor  soul,  it  felt  so  cold  in 
mine !" 

When  Mrs.  Lecount's  master  made  his  appearance  at  two  o'clock, 
he  stood  alarmingly  in  need  of  an  anodyne  application  from  Mrs. 
Lecount's  green  fan.  The  agitation  of  making  his  avowal  to  Mag- 
dalen ;  the  terror  of  finding  himself  discovered  by  the  housekeeper ; 
the  tormenting  suspicion  of  the  hard  pecuniary  conditions  which 
Magdalen's  relative  and  guardian  might  impose  on  him — all  these 
emotions,  stirring  in  conflict  together,  had  overpowered  his  feebly- 
working  heart  with  a  trial  that  strained  it  sorely.  He  gasped  for 
breath  as  he  sat  down  in  the  parlor  at  North  Shingles,  and  that 
ominous  bluish  pallor  which  always  overspread  his  face  in  moments 
of  agitation  now  made  its  warning  appearance  again.  Captain 
Wragge  seized  the  brandy  bottle  in  genuine  alarm,  and  forced  his 
visitor  to  drink  a  wine-glassful  of  the  spirit  before  a  word  was  said 
between  them  on  either  side. 

Restored  by  the  stimulant,  and  encouraged  by  the  readiness  with 
which  the  captain  anticipated  every  thing  that  he  had  to  say,  Noel 
Vanstone  contrived  to  state  the  serious  object  of  his  visit  in  tolerably 
plain  terms.  All  the  conventional  preliminaries  proper  to  the  occa- 
sion were  easily  disposed  of.  The  suitor's  family  was  respectable ; 
his  position  in  life  was  undeniably  satisfactory;  his  attachment, 
though  hasty,  was  evidently  disinterested  and  sincere.  All  that 
Captain  Wragge  had  to  do  was  to  refer  to  these  various  considera- 
tions with  a  happy  choice  of  language  in  a  voice  that  trembled  with 
manly  emotion,  and  this  he  did  to  perfection.  For  the  first  half- 
hour  of  the  interview,  no  allusion  whatever  was  made  to  the  delicate 
and  dangerous  part  of  the  subject.  The  captain  waited  until  he 
had  composed  his  visitor,  and  when  that  result  was  achieved  came 
smoothly  to  the  point  in  these  terms : 

"  There  is  one  little  difficulty,  Mr.  Vanstone,  which  I  think  we  have 
both  overlooked.  Your  housekeeper's  recent  conduct  inclines  me  to 
fear  that  she  will  view  the  approaching  change  in  your  life  with  any 
thing  but  a  friendly  eye.  Probably  you  have  not  thought  it  neces- 
sary yet  to  inform  her  of  the  new  tie  which  you  propose  to  form  ?" 

Noel  Vanstone  turned  pale  at  the  bare  idea  of  explaining  himself 
to  Mrs.  Lecount. 

"  I  can't  tell  what  I'm  to  do,"  he  said,  glancing  aside  nervously  at 
the  window,  as  if  he  expected  to  see  the  housekeeper  peeping  in.  "  I 
hate  all  awkward  positions,  and  this  is  the  most  unpleasant  position 
I  ever  was  placed  in.  You  don't  know  what  a  terrible  woman  Le- 
count is.  I'm  not  afraid  of  her ;  pray  don't  suppose  I'm  afraid  of 
her—" 


354  NO    NAME. 

At  those  words  his  fears  rose  in  his  throat,  and  gave  him  the  lie 
direct  by  stopping  his  utterance. 

"  Pray  don't  trouble  yourself  to  explain,"  said  Captain  Wragge, 
coming  to  the  rescue.  "  This  is  the  common  story,  Mr.  Vanstone. 
Here  is  a  woman  who  has  grown  old  in  your  service,  and  in  your  fa- 
ther's service  before  you ;  a  woman  who  has  contrived,  in  all  sorts 
of  small  underhand  ways,  to  presume  systematically  on  her  position 
for  years  and  years  past ;  a  woman,  in  short,  whom  your  inconsider- 
ate but  perfectly  natural  kindness  has  allowed  to  claim  a  right  of 
property  in  you — " 

"Property!"  cried  Noel  Vanstone,  mistaking  the  captain,  and  let- 
ting the  truth  escape  him  through  sheer  inability  to  conceal  his  fears 
any  longer.  "  I  don't  know  what  amount  of  property  she  won't 
claim.  She'll  make  me  pay  for  my  father  as  well  as  for  myself. 
Thousands,  Mr.  Bygrave— thousands  of  pounds  sterling  out  of  my 
pocket ! ! !"  He  clasped  his  hands  in  despair  at  the  picture  of  pe- 
cuniary compulsion  which  his  fancy  had  conjured  up — his  own  gold- 
en life-blood  spouting  from  him  in  great  jets  of  prodigality,  under 
the  lancet  of  Mrs.  Lecount. 

"  Gently,  Mr.  Vanstone — gently  !  The  woman  knows  nothing  so 
far,  and  the  money  is  not  gone  yet." 

"  No,  no ;  the  money  is  not  gone,  as  you  say.  I'm  only  nervous 
about  it ;  I  can't  help  being  nervous.  You  were  saying  something 
just  now  ;  you  were  going  to  give  me  advice.  I  value  your  advice ; 
you  don't  know  how  highly  I  value  your  advice."  He  said  those 
words  with  a  conciliatory  smile  which  was  more  than  helpless:  it 
was  absolutely  servile,  in  its  dependence  on  his  judicious  friend. 

"  I  was  only  assuring  you,  my  dear  sir,  that  I  understood  your  po- 
sition," said  the  captain.  "  I  see  your  difficulty  as  plainly  as  you 
can  see  it  yourself.  Tell  a  woman  like  Mrs.  Lecount  that  she  must 
come  off  her  domestic  throne,  to  make  way  for  a  young  and  beauti- 
ful successor,  armed  with  the  authority  of  a  wife,  and  an  unpleasant 
scene  must  be  the  inevitable  result.  An  unpleasant  scene,  Mr.  Van- 
stone, if  your  opinion  of  your  housekeeper's  sanity  is  well  founded. 
Something  far  more  serious,  if  my  opinion  that  her  intellect  is  un- 
settled happens  to  turn  out  the  right  one." 

"  I  don't  say  it  isn't  my  opinion  too,"  rejoined  Noel  Vanstone. 
"  Especially  after  what  has  happened  to-day." 

Captain  Wragge  immediately  begged  to  know  what  the  event  al- 
luded to  might  be. 

Noel  Vanstone  thereupon  explained— with  an  infinite  number  of 
parentheses  all  referring  to  himself — that  Mrs.  Lecount  had  put  the 
dreaded  question  relating  to  the  little  note  in  her  master's  pocket 
barely  an  hour  since.  He  had  answered  her  inquiry  as  Mr.  Bygrave 
had  advised  him.     On  hearing  that  the  accuracy  of  the  personal  dc 


NO   NAME.  355 

scription  had  been  fairly  put  to  the  test,  and  had  failed  in  the  one 
important  particular  of  the  moles  on  the  neck,  Mrs.  Lecount  had  con- 
sidered a  little,  and  had  then  asked  him  whether  he  had  shown  her 
note  to  Mr.  Bygrave  before  the  experiment  was  tried.  He  had  an- 
swered in  the  negative,  as  the  only  safe  form  of  reply  that  he  could 
think  of  on  the  spur  of  the  moment,  and  the  housekeeper  had  then 
addressed  him  in  these  strange  and  startling  words  :  "You  are  keep- 
ing the  truth  from  me,  Mr.  Noel.  You  are  trusting  strangers,  and 
doubting  your  old  servant  and  your  old  friend.  Every  time  you  go 
to  Mr.  Bygrave's  house,  every  time  you  see  Miss  Bygrave,  you  are 
drawing  nearer  and  nearer  to  your  destruction.  They  have  got  the 
handage  over  your  eyes  in  spite  of  me;  but  I  tell  them,  and  tell  you, 
before  many  days  are  over  I  will  take  it  off!"  To  this  extraordi- 
nary outbreak — accompanied  as  it  was  by  an  expression  in  Mrs.  Le- 
count's  face  which  he  had  never  seen  there  before — Noel  Vanstone 
had  made  no  reply.  Mr.  Bygrave's  conviction  that  there  was  a  lurk- 
ing taint  of  insanity  in  the  housekeeper's  blood  had  recurred  to  his 
memory,  and  he  had  left  the  room  at  the  first  opportunity. 

Captain  Wragge  listened  with  the  closest  attention  to  the  narra- 
tive thus  presented  to  him.  But  one  conclusion  could  be  drawn 
from  it — it  was  a  plain  warning  to  him  to  hasten  the  end. 

"  I  am  not  surprised,"  he  said,  gravely,  "  to  hear  that  you  are  in- 
clining more  favorably  to  my  opinion.  After  what  you  have  just 
told  me,  Mr.  Vanstone,  no  sensible  man  could  do  otherwise.  This  is 
becoming  serious.  I  hardly  know  what  results  may  not  be  expected 
to  follow  the  communication  of  your  approaching  change  in  life  to 
Mrs.  Lecount.  My  niece  may  be  involved  in  those  results.  She  is 
nervous ;  she  is  sensitive  in  the  highest  degree ;  she  is  the  innocent 
object  of  this  woman's  unreasoning  hatred  and  distrust.  You  alarm 
me,  sir !  I  am  not  easily  thrown  off  my  balance,  but  I  acknowledge 
you  alarm  me  for  the  future."  He  frowned,  shook  his  head,  and 
looked  at  his  visitor  despondently. 

Noel  Vanstone  began  to  feel  uneasy.  The  change  in  Mr.  By- 
grave's manner  seemed  ominous  of  a  reconsideration  of  his  proposals 
from  a  new  and  unfavorable  point  of  view.  He  took  counsel  of  his 
inborn  cowardice  and  his  inborn  cunning,  and  proposed  a  solution 
of  the  difficulty  discovered  by  himself. 

"  Why  should  we  tell  Lecount  at  all  ?"  he  asked.  "  What  right 
has  Lecount  to  know  ?  Can't  we  be  married  without  letting  her 
into  the  secret  ?  And  can't  somebody  tell  her  afterward  when  we 
are  both  out  of  her  reach  ?" 

Captain  Wragge  received  this  proposal  with  an  expression  of 
surprise  which  did  infinite  credit  to  his  power  of  control  over  his 
own  countenance.  His  foremost  object  throughout  the  interview 
had  been  to  conduct  it  to  this  point,  or,  in  other  words,  to  make 


356  NO    NAME. 

the  first  idea  of  keeping  the  marriage  a  secret  from  Mrs.  Lecount 
emanate  from  Noel  Vanstone  instead  of  from  himself.  No  one  knew 
better  than  the  captain  that  the  only  responsibilities  which  a  weak 
man  ever  accepts  are  responsibilities  which  can  be  perpetually 
pointed  out  to  him  as  resting  exclusively  on  his  own  shoulders. 

"  I  am  accustomed  to  set  my  face  against  clandestine  proceedings 
of  all  kinds,"  said  Captain  Wragge.  "  But  there  are  exceptions  to 
the  strictest  rules ;  and  I  am  bound  to  admit,  Mr.  Vanstone,  that 
your  position  in  this  matter  is  an  exceptional  position,  if  ever  there 
was  one  yet.  The  course  you  have  just  proposed — however  unbe- 
coming I  may  think  it,  however  distasteful  it  may  be  to  myself — 
would  not  only  spare  you  a  very  serious  embarrassment  (to  say  the 
least  of  it),  but  would  also  protect  you  from  the  personal  assertion 
of  those  pecuniary  claims  on  the  part  of  your  housekeeper  to  which 
you  have  already  adverted.  These  are  both  desirable  results  to 
achieve — to  say  nothing  of  the  removal,  on  my  side,  of  all  appre- 
hension of  annoyance  to  my  niece.  On  the  other  hand,  however,  a 
marriage  solemnized  with  such  privacy  as  you  propose  must  be  a 
hasty  marriage;  for,  as  we  are  situated,  the  longer  the  delay,  the 
greater  will  be  the  risk  that  our  secret  may  escape  our  keeping.  I 
am  not  against  hasty  marriages  where  a  mutual  flame  is  fanned  by  an 
adequate  income.  My  own  was  a  love-match  contracted  in  a  hurry. 
There  are  plenty  of  instances  in  the  experience  of  every  one,  of  short 
courtships  and  speedy  marriages,  which  have  turned  up  trumps — I 
beg  your  pardon — which  have  turned  out  well  after  all.  But  if  you 
and  my  niece,  Mr.  Vanstone,  are  to  add  one  to  the  number  of  these 
cases,  the  usual  preliminaries  of  marriage  among  the  higher  classes 
must  be  hastened  by  some  means.  You  doubtless  understand  me 
as  now  referring  to  the  subject  of  settlements." 

"  I'll  take  another  tea-spoonful  of  brandy,"  said  Noel  Vanstone, 
holding  out  his  glass  with  a  trembling  hand  as  the  word  "  settle- 
ments "  passed  Captain  Wragge's  lips. 

"  I'll  take  a  tea-spoonful  with  you,"  said  the  captain,  nimbly  dis- 
mounting from  the  pedestal  of  his  respectability,  and  sipping  his 
brandy  with  the  highest  relish.  Noel  Vanstone,  after  nervously  fol- 
lowing his  host's  example,  composed  himself  to  meet  the  coming 
ordeal,  with  reclining  head  and  grasping  hands,  in  the  position 
familiarly  associated  to  all  civilized  humanity  with  a  seat  in  a 
dentist's  chair. 

The  captain  put  down  his  empty  glass  and  got  up  again  on  bis 
pedestal. 

"We  were  talking  of  settlements,"  he  resumed.  "  I  have  already 
mentioned,  Mr.  Vanstone,  at  an  early  period  of  our  conversation,  that 
my  niece  presents  the  man  of  her  choice  with  no  other  dowry  than 
the  most  inestimable  of  all  gifts — the  gift  of  herself.     This  circum- 


NO   NAME.  357 

stance,  however  (as  you  are  no  doubt  aware),  does  not  disentitle  me 
to  make  the  customary  stipulations  with  her  future  husband.  Ac- 
cording to  the  usual  course  in  this  matter,  my  lawyer  would  see 
yours  —  consultations  would  take  place  —  delays  would  occur — 
strangers  would  be  in  possession  of  your  intentions  —  and  Mrs.  Le- 
count  would,  sooner  or  later,  arrive  at  that  knowledge  of  the  truth 
which  you  are  anxious  to  keep  from  her.  Do  you  agree  with  me 
so  tar  ?" 

Unutterable  apprehension  closed  Noel  Vanstone's  lips.  He  could 
only  reply  by  an  inclination  of  the  head. 

"Very  good,"  said  the  captain.  "Now,  sir,  you  may  possibly 
have  observed  that  I  am  a  man  of  a  very  original  turn  of  mind.  If 
I  have  not  hitherto  struck  you  in  that  light,  it  may  then  be  neces- 
sary to  mention  that  there  are  some  subjects  on  which  I  jDersist  in 
thinking  for  myself.  The  subject  of  marriage  settlements  is  one  of 
them.  What,  let  me  ask  you,  does  a  parent  or  guardian  in  my 
present  condition  usually  do  ?  After  having  trusted  the  man  whom 
he  has  chosen  for  his  son-in-law  with  the  sacred  deposit  of  a  wom- 
an's happiness,  he  turns  round  on  that  man,  and  declines  to  trust 
him  with  the  infinitely  inferior  responsibility  of  providing  for  her 
pecuniary  future.  He  fetters  his  son-in-law  with  the  most  binding 
document  the  law  can  produce,  and  employs  with  the  husband  of 
his  own  child  the  same  precautions  which  he  would  use  if  he  were 
dealing  with  a  stranger  and  a  rogue.  I  call  such  conduct  as  this  in- 
consistent and  unbecoming  in  the  last  degree.  You  will  not  find  it 
my  course  of  conduct,  Mr.  Vanstone — you  will  not  find  me  preach- 
ing what  I  don't  practice.  If  I  trust  you  with  my  niece,  I  trust  you 
with  every  inferior  responsibility  toward  her  and  toward  me.  Give 
me  your  hand,  sir ;  tell  me,  on  your  word  of  honor,  that  you  will  ]3ro- 
vide  for  your  wife  as  becomes  her  position  and  your  means,  and  the 
question  of  settlements  is  decided  between  us  from  this  moment  at 
once  and  forever  !"  Having  carried  out  Magdalen's  instructions  in 
this  lofty  tone,  he  threw  open  his  respectable  frock-coat,  and  sat 
with  head  erect  and  hand  extended,  the  model  of  parental  feeling, 
and  the  picture  of  human  integrity. 

For  one  moment  Noel  Vanstone  remained  literally  petrified  by 
astonishment.  The  next,  he  started  from  his  chair  and  wrung  the 
hand  of  his  magnanimous  friend  in  a  perfect  transport  of  admira- 
tion. Never  yet,  throughout  his  long  and  varied  career,  had  Cap- 
tain Wragge  felt  such  difficulty  in  keeping  his  countenance  as  he 
felt  now.  Contempt  for  the  outburst  of  miserly  gratitude  of  which 
he  was  the  object ;  triumph  in  the  sense  of  successful  conspiracy 
against  a  man  who  had  rated  the  offer  of  his  protection  at  five 
pounds ;  regret  at  the  lost  opportunity  of  effecting  a  fine  stroke  of 
moral  agriculture,  which  his  dread  of  involving  himself  in  coming 


358  NO   NAME. 

consequences  had  forced  him  to  let  slip — all  these  varied  emotions 
agitated  the  captain's  mind ;  all  strove  together  to  find  their  way  to 
the  surface  through  the  outlets  of  his  face  or  his  tongue.  He  allow- 
ed Noel  Vanstone  to  keep  possession  of  his  hand,  and  to  heap  one 
series  of  shrill  protestations  and  promises  on  another,  until  he  had 
regained  his  usual  mastery  over  himself.  That  result  achieved,  he 
put  the  little  man  back  in  his  chair,  and  returned  forthwith  to  the 
subject  of  Mrs.  Lecount. 

"  Suppose  we  now  revert  to  the  difficulty  which  we  have  not  con- 
quered yet,"  said  the  captain.  "  Let  us  say  that  I  do  violence  to 
my  own  habits  and  feelings ;  that  I  allow  the  considerations  I  have 
already  mentioned  to  weigh  with  me ;  and  that  I  sanction  your  wish 
to  be  united  to  my  niece  without  the  knowledge  of  Mrs.  Lecount. 
Allow  me  to  inquire  in  that  case  what  means  you  can  suggest  for 
the  accomplishment  of  your  end  ?" 

"  I  can't  suggest  any  thing,"  replied  Noel  Vanstone,  helplessly. 
"  Would  you  object  to  suggest  for  me  ?" 

"  You  are  making  a  bolder  request  than  you  think,  Mr.  Vanstone. 
I  never  do  things  by  halves.  When  I  am  acting  with  my  customa 
ry  candor,  I  am  frank  (as  you  know  already)  to  the  utmost  verge  of 
imprudence.  When  exceptional  circumstances  compel  me  to  take 
an  opposite  course,  there  isn't  a  slyer  fox  alive  than  I  am.  If,  at 
your  express  request,  I  take  off  my  honest  English  coat  here  and 
put  on  a  Jesuit's  gown — if,  purely  out  of  sympathy  for  your  awk- 
ward position,  I  consent  to  keep  your  secret  for  you  from  Mrs.  Le- 
count— I  must  have  no  unseasonable  scruples  to  contend  with  on 
your  part.  If  it  is  neck  or  nothing  on  my  side,  sir,  it  must  be  neck 
or  nothing  on  yours  also  !" 

"  Neck  or  nothing  by  all  means,"  said  Noel  Vanstone,  briskly — ■ 
"on  the  understanding  that  you  go  first.  I  have  no  scruples  about 
keeping  Lecount  in  the  dark.  But  she  is  devilish  cunning,  Mr.  By- 
grave.     How  is  it  to  be  done  ?" 

"  You  shall  hear  directly,"  replied  the  captain.  "  Before  I  de- 
velop my  views,  I  should  like  to  have  your  opinion  on  an  abstract 
question  of  morality.  What  do  you  think,  my  dear  sir,  of  pious 
frauds  in  general  ?" 

Noel  Vanstone  looked  a  little  embarrassed  by  the  question. 

"  Shall  I  put  it  more  plainly  ?"  continued  Captain  Wragge. 
"  What  do  you  say  to  the  universally  -  accepted  maxim,  that  'all 
stratagems  are  fair  in  love  and  war  V — Yes  or  No  ?" 

'•  Yes  !"  answered  Noel  Vanstone,  with  the  utmost  readiness. 

"  One  more  question,  and  I  have  done,"  said  the  captain.  "  Do 
you  see  any  particular  objection  to  practicing  a  pious  fraud  on  Mrs. 
Lecount  ?" 

Noel  Vanstone's  resolution  began  to  falter  a  little. 


NO   NAME.  359 

"Is  Leeount  likely  to  find  it  out?"  he  asked,  cautiously. 

"  She  can't  possibly  discover  it  until  you  are  married  and  out  of 
her  reach." 

'•  You  are  sure  of  that?" 

"  Quite  sure." 

"  Play  any  trick  you  like  on  Leeount,"  said  Noel  Vanstone,  with 
an  air  of  unutterable  relief.  "  I  have  had  my  suspicions  lately  that 
she  is  trying  to  domineer  over  me ;  I  am  beginning  to  feel  that  I 
have  borne  with  Leeount  long  enough.  I  wish  I  was  well  rid  of 
her." 

"  You  shall  have  your  wish,"  said  Captain  Wragge.  "  You  shall 
be  rid  of  her  in  a  week  or  ten  days." 

Noel  Vanstone  rose  eagerly  and  approached  the  captain's  chair. 

"  You  don't  say  so  !"  he  exclaimed.  "  How  do  you  mean  to  send 
her  away  ?" 

"  I  mean  to  send  her  on  a  journey,"  replied  Captain  Wragge. 

"  Where  ?" 

"  From  your  house  at  Aldborough  to  her  brother's  bedside  at 
Zurich." 

Noel  Vanstone  started  back  at  the  answer,  and  returned  suddenly 
to  his  chair. 

"  How  can  you  do  that  ?"  he  inquired,  in  the  greatest  perplexity. 
"  Her  brother  (hang  him  !)  is  much  better.  She  had  another  letter 
from  Ziirich  to  say  so,  this  morning." 

"  Did  you  see  the  letter  ?" 

"  Yes.  She  always  worries  about  her  brother — she  would  show  it 
to  me." 

"  Who  was  it  from  ?  and  what  did  it  say  ?" 

"  It  was  from  the  doctor — he  always  writes  to  her.  I  don't  care 
two  straws  about  her  brother,  and  I  don't  remember  much  of  the 
letter,  except  that  it  was  a  short  one.  The  fellow  was  much  better ; 
and  if  the  doctor  didn't  write  again,  she  might  take  it  for  granted 
that  he  was  getting  well.     That  was  the  substance  of  it." 

"  Did  you  notice  where  she  put  the  letter  when  you  gave  it  her 
back  again  ?" 

"  Yes.  She  put  it  in  the  drawer  where  she  keeps  her  account, 
books." 

"  Can  you  get  at  that  drawer  ?" 

"  Of  course  I  can.  I  have  got  a  duplicate  key — I  always  insist  on 
a  duplicate  key  of  the  place  where  she  keeps  her  account-books.  I 
never  allow  the  account-books  to  be  locked  up  from  my  inspection : 
it's  a  rule  of  the  house." 

"  Be  so  good  as  to  get  that  letter  to-day,  Mr.  Vanstone,  without 
your  housekeeper's  knowledge,  and  add  to  the  favor  by  letting  me 
have  it  here  privately  for  an  hour  or  two." 


360  NO   NAME. 

"  What  do  you  want  it  for  V 

"  I  have  some  more  questions  to  ask  before  I  can  tell  you.  Have 
you  any  intimate  friend  at  Zurich  whom  you  could  trust  to  help  you 
in  playing  a  trick  on  Mrs.  Lecount  ?" 

"  What  sort  of  help  do  you  mean  ?"  asked  Noel  Vanstone. 

"  Suppose,"  said  the  captain,  "  you  were  to  send  a  letter  addressed 
to  Mrs.  Lecount  at  Aldborough,  inclosed  in  another  letter  addressed 
to  one  of  your  friends  abroad  ?  And  suppose  you  were  to  instruct 
that  friend  to  help  a  harmless  practical  joke  by  posting  Mrs.  Le- 
count's  letter  at  Zurich  ?  Do  you  know  any  one  who  could  be 
trusted  to  do  that  ?" 

"I  know  two  people  who  could  be  trusted  !"  cried  Noel  Vanstone. 
"Both  ladies  —  both  spinsters  —  both  bitter  enemies  of  Lecount's. 
But  what  is  your  drift,  Mr.  Bygrave  ?  Though  I  am  not  usually 
wanting  in  penetration,  I  don't  altogether  see  your  drift." 

"  You  shall  see  it  directly,  Mr.  Vanstone." 

With  those  words  he  rose,  withdrew  to  his  desk  in  the  corner  of 
the  room,  and  wrote  a  few  lines  on  a  sheet  of  note-paper.  After  first 
reading  them  carefully  to  himself,  he  beckoned  to  Noel  Vanstone  to 
come  and  read  them  too. 

"A  few  minutes  since,"  said  the  captain,  pointing  complacently 
to  his  own  composition  with  the  feather  end  of  his  pen, "  I  had  the 
honor  of  suggesting  a  pious  fraud  on  Mrs.  Lecount.     There  it  is !" 

He  resigned  his  chair  at  the  writing-table  to  his  visitor.  Noel 
Vanstone  sat  down,  and  read  these  lines : 

"  My  dear  Madam, — Since  I  last  wrote,  I  deeply  regret  to  inform 
you  that  your  brother  has  suffered  a  relapse.  The  symptoms  are  so 
serious,  that  it  is  my  painful  duty  to  summon  you  instantly  to  his 
bedside.  I  am  making  every  effort  to  resist  the  renewed  progress 
of  the  malady,  and  I  have  not  yet  lost  all  hope  of  success.  But  I 
can  not  reconcile  it  to  my  conscience  to  leave  you  in  ignorance  of  a 
serious  change  in  my  patient  for  the  worst,  which  may  be  attended 
by  fatal  results.     With  much  sympathy,  I  remain,  etc.,  etc." 

Captain  Wragge  waited  with  some  anxiety  for  the  effect  which 
this  letter  might  produce.  Mean,  selfish,  and  cowardly  as  he  was, 
even  Noel  Vanstone  might  feel  some  compunction  at  practicing  such 
a  deception  as  was  here  suggested  on  a  woman  who  stood  toward 
him  in  the  position  of  Mrs.  Lecount.  She  had  served  him  faithfully, 
however  interested  her  motives  might  be — she  had  lived  since  he 
was  a  lad  in  the  full  possession  of  his  father's  confidence — she  was 
living  now  under  the  protection  of  his  own  roof.  Could  he  fail  to 
remember  this ;  and,  remembering  it,  could  he  lend  his  aid  without 
hesitation  to  the  scheme  which  was  now  proposed  to  him  ?    Captain 


NO    NAME.  361 

Wragge  unconsciously  retained  belief  enough  in  human  nature  to 
doubt  it.  To  his  surprise,  and,  it  must  be  added,  to  his  relief  also, 
his  apprehensions  proved  to  be  perfectly  groundless.  The  only  emo- 
tions aroused  in  Noel  Vanstone's  mind  by  a  perusal  of  the  letter  were 
a  hearty  admiration  of  his  friend's  idea,  and  a  vainglorious  anxiety 
to  claim  the  credit  to  himself  of  being  the  person  who  carried  it  out. 
Examples  may  be  found  every  day  of  a  fool  who  is  no  coward ;  ex- 
amples may  be  found  occasionally  of  a  fool  who  is  not  cunning;  but 
it  may  reasonably  be  doubted  whether  there  is  a  producible  instance 
anywhere  of  a  fool  who  is  not  cruel. 

"  Perfect !"  cried  Noel  Vanstone,  clapping  his  hands.  "  Mr.  By- 
grave,  you  are  as  good  as  Figaro  in  the  French  comedy.  Talking 
of  French,  there  is  one  serious  mistake  in  this  clever  letter  of  yours 
— it  is  written  in  the  wrong  language.  When  the  doctor  writes  to 
Lecount,  he  writes  in  French.  Perhaps  you  meant  me  to  translate 
it  ?  You  can't  manage  without  my  help,  can  you  ?  I  write  French 
as  fluently  as  I  write  English.  Just  look  at  me!  I'll  translate  it, 
while  I  sit  here,  in  two  strokes  of  the  pen." 

He  completed  the  translation  almost  as  rapidly  as  Captain  Wragge 
had  produced  the  original.  "  Wait  a  minute  !"  he  cried,  in  high  crit- 
ical triumph  at  discovering  another  defect  in  the  composition  of  his 
ingenious  friend.  "  The  doctor  always  dates  his  letters.  Here  is  no 
date  to  yours." 

"  I  leave  the  date  to  you,"  said  the  captain,  with  a  sardonic  smile. 
"  You  have  discovered  the  fault,  my  dear  sir — pray  correct  it !" 

Noel  Vanstone  mentally  looked  into  the  great  gulf  which  separates 
the  faculty  that  can  discover  a  defect,  from  the  faculty  that  can  ap- 
ply a  remedy,  and,  following  the  example  of  many  a  wiser  man,  de- 
clined to  cross  over  it. 

"  I  couldn't  think  of  taking  the  liberty,"  he  said,  politely.  "  Per- 
haps you  had  a  motive  for  leaving  the  date  out  ?" 

"  Perhaps  I  had,"  replied  Captain  Wragge,  with  his  easiest  good- 
humor.  "  The  date  must  depend  on  the  time  a  letter  takes  to  get 
to  Zurich,  /have  had  no  experience  on  that  point — you  must  have 
had  plenty  of  experience  in  your  father's  time.  Give  me  the  benefit 
of  your  information,  and  we  will  add  the  date  before  you  leave  the 
writing-table." 

Noel  Vanstone's  experience  was,  as  Captain  Wragge  had  antici- 
pated, perfectly  competent  to  settle  the  question  of  time.  The  rail- 
way resources  of  the  Continent  (in  the  year  eighteen  hundred  and 
forty-seven)  were  but  scanty ;  and  a  letter  sent  at  that  period  from 
England  to  Ziirich,  and  from  Zurich  back  again  to  England,  occupied 
ten  days  in  making  the  double  journey  by  post. 

"  Date  the  letter  in  French  five  days  on  from  to-morrow,"  said  the 
captain,  when  he  had  got  his  information.     "  Very  good.     The  next 


362  NO   NAME. 

thing  is  to  let  me  have  the  doctor's  note  as  soon  as  you  can.  I  may 
be  obliged  to  practice  some  hours  before  I  can  copy  your  translation 
in  an  exact  imitation  of  the  doctor's  handwriting.  Have  you  got 
any  foreign  note-paper  ?  Let  me  have  a  few  sheets,  and  send,  at  the 
same  time,  an  envelope  addressed  to  one  of  those  lady-friends  of 
yours  at  Ziirich,  accompanied  by  the  necessary  request  to  post  the 
inclosure.  This  is  all  I  need  trouble  you  to  do,  Mr.  Vanstone.  Don't 
let  me  seem  inhospitable ;  but  the  sooner  you  can  supply  me  with 
my  materials,  the  better  I  shall  be  pleased.  We  entirely  understand 
each  other,  I  suppose  ?  Having  accepted  your  proposal  for  my  niece's 
hand,  I  sanction  a  private  marriage  in  consideration  of  the  circum- 
stances on  your  side.  A  little  harmless  stratagem  is  necessary  to 
forward  your  views.  I  invent  the  stratagem  at  your  request,  and  you 
make  use  of  it  without  the  least  hesitation.  The  result  is,  that  in 
ten  days  from  to-morrow  Mrs.  Lecount  will  be  on  her  way  to  Switz- 
erland ;  in  fifteen  days  from  to-morrow  Mrs.  Lecount  will  reach  Zu- 
rich, and  discover  the  trick  we  have  played  her ;  in  twenty  days 
from  to-morrow  Mrs.  Lecount  will  be  back  at  Aldborough,  and  will 
find  her  master's  wedding-cards  on  the  table,  and  her  master  him- 
self away  on  his  honey-moon  trip.  I  put  it  arithmetically,  for  the 
sake  of  putting  it  plain.     God  bless  you.     Good-morning !" 

"  I  suppose  I  may  have  the  happiness  of  seeing  Miss  By  grave  to- 
morrow ?"  said  Noel  Vanstone,  turning  round  at  the  door. 

"  We  must  be  careful,"  replied  Captain  Wragge.  "  I  don't  forbid 
to-morrow,  but  I  make  no  promise  beyond  that.  Permit  me  to  re- 
mind you  that  we  have  got  Mrs.  Lecount  to  manage  for  the  next 
ten  days." 

"  I  wish  Lecount  was  at  the  bottom  of  the  German  Ocean !"  ex- 
claimed Noel  Vanstone,  fervently.  "  It's  all  very  well  for  you  to 
manage  her — you  don't  live  in  the  house.     What  am  I  to  do  ?" 

"  I'll  tell  you  to-morrow,"  said  the  captain.  "  Go  out  for  your 
walk  alone,  and  drop  in  here,  as  you  dropped  in  to-day,  at  two 
o'clock.  In  the  mean  time,  don't  forget  those  things  I  want  you  to 
send  me.  Seal  them  up  together  in  a  large  envelope.  When  you 
have  done  that,  ask  Mrs.  Lecount  to  walk  out  with  you  as  usual; 
and  while  she  is  up  stairs  putting  her  bonnet  on,  send  the  servant 
across  to  me.     You  understand  ?     Good-morning." 

An  hour  afterward,  the  sealed  envelope,  with  its  inclosures,  reach- 
ed Captain  Wragge  in  perfect  safety.  The  double  task  of  exactly 
imitating  a  strange  handwriting,  and  accurately  copying  words 
written  in  a  language  with  which  he  was  but  slightly  acquainted, 
presented  more  difficulties  to  be  overcome  than  the  captain  had 
anticipated.  It  was  eleven  o'clock  before  the  employment  which 
he  had  undertaken  was  successfully  completed,  and  the  letter  to 
Zurich  ready  for  the  post. 


NO    NAME.  363 

Before  going  to  bed,  lie  walked  out  on  the  deserted  Parade  to 
breathe  the  cool  night  air.  All  the  lights  were  extinguished  in 
Sea-view  Cottage,  when  he  looked  that  way,  except  the  light  in  the 
housekeeper's  window.  Captain  Wragge  shook  his  head  suspi- 
ciously. He  had  gained  experience  enough  by  this  time  to  distrust 
the  wakefulness  of  Mrs.  Lecount. 


CHAPTER  IX. 

If  Captain  Wragge  could  have  looked  into  Mrs.  Lecount's  room 
while  he  stood  on  the  Parade  watching  the  light  in  her  window, 
he  would  have  seen  the  housekeeper  sitting  absorbed  in  meditation 
over  a  worthless  little  morsel  of  brown  stuff  which  lay  on  her  toilet- 
table. 

However  exasperating  to  herself  the  conclusion  might  be,  Mrs. 
Lecount  could  not  fail  to  see  that  she  had  been  thus  far  met  and 
baffled  successfully  at  every  point.  What  was  she  to  do  next  ?  If 
she  sent  for  Mr.  Pendril  when  he  came  to  Aldborough  (with  only  a 
few  hours  spared  from  his  business  at  her  disposal),  what  definite 
course  would  there  be  for  him  to  follow  ?  If  she  showed  Noel  Van- 
stone  the  original  letter  from  which  her  note  had  been  copied,  he 
would  apply  instantly  to  the  writer  for  an  explanation ;  would  ex- 
pose the  fabricated  story  by  which  Mrs.  Lecount  had  succeeded  in 
imposing  on  Miss  Garth ;  and  would,  in  any  event,  still  declare,  on 
the  evidence  of  his  own  eyes,  that  the  test  by  the  marks  on  the  neck 
had  utterly  failed.  Miss  Vanstone,  the  elder,  whose  unexpected 
presence  at  Aldborough  might  have  done  wonders  —  whose  voice 
in  the  hall  at  North  Shingles,  even  if  she  had  been  admitted  no 
further,  might  have  reached  her  sister's  ears,  and  led  to  instant  re- 
sults —  Miss  Vanstone,  the  elder,  was  out  of  the  country,  and  was 
not  likely  to  return  for  a  month  at  least.  Look  as  anxiously  as  Mrs. 
Lecount  might  along  the  course  which  she  had  hitherto  followed, 
she  failed  to  see  her  way  through  the  accumulated  obstacles  which 
now  barred  her  advance. 

Other  women  in  this  position  might  have  waited  until  circum- 
stances altered,  and  helped  them.  Mrs.  Lecount  boldly  retraced 
her  steps,  and  determined  to  find  her  way  to  her  end  in  a  new  di- 
rection. Resigning  for  the  present  all  further  attempt  to  prove  that 
the  false  Miss  Bygrave  was  the  true  Magdalen  Vanstone,  she  re- 
solved to  narrow  the  range  of  her  next  efforts ;  to  leave  the  actual 
question  of  Magdalen's  identity  untouched;  and  to  rest  satisfied 
with  convincing  her  master  of  this  simple  fact- — that  the  young 
lady  who  was  charming  him  at  North  Shingles,  and  the  disguised 


364  NO    NAME. 

woman  who  had  terrified  him  in  Vauxhall  Walk,  were  one  and  the 
same  person. 

The  means  of  effecting  this  new  object  were,  to  all  appearance, 
far  less  easy  of  attainment  than  the  means  of  effecting  the  object 
which  Mrs.  Lecount  had  just  resigned.  Here  no  help  was  to  be 
expected  from  others,  no  ostensibly  benevolent  motives  could  be 
put  forward  as  a  blind — no  appeal  could  be  made  to  Mr.  Pendril 
or  to  Miss  Garth.  Here  the  housekeeper's  only  chance  of  success 
depended,  in  the  first  place,  on  her  being  able  to  effect  a  stolen  en- 
trance into  Mr.  Bygrave's  house,  and,  in  the  second  place,  on  her 
ability  to  discover  whether  that  memorable  alpaca  dress  from  which 
she  had  secretly  cut  the  fragment  of  stuff  happened  to  form  part  of 
Miss  Bygrave's  wardrobe. 

Taking  the  difficulties  now  before  her  in  their  order  as  they  oc- 
curred, Mrs.  Lecount  first  resolved  to  devote  the  next  few  days  to 
watching  the  habits  of  the  inmates  of  North  Shingles,  from  early  in 
the  morning  to  late  at  night,  and  to  testing  the  capacity  of  the  one 
servant  in  the  house  to  resist  the  temptation  of  a  bribe.  Assuming 
that  results  proved  successful,  and  that,  either  by  money  or  by  strat- 
agem, she  gained  admission  to  North  Shingles  (without  the  knowl- 
edge of  Mr.  Bygrave  or  his  niece),  she  turned  next  to  the  second 
difficulty  of  the  two — the  difficulty  of  obtaining  access  to  Miss  By- 
grave's  wardrobe. 

If  the  servant  proved  corruptible,  all  obstacles  in  this  direction 
might  be  considered  as  removed  beforehand.  But  if  the  servant 
proved  honest,  the  new  problem  was  no  easy  one  to  solve. 

Long  and  careful  consideration  of  the  question  led  the  house- 
keeper at  last  to  the  bold  resolution  of  obtaining  an  interview — if 
the  servant  failed  her— with  Mrs.  Bygrave  herself.  What  was  the 
true  cause  of  this  lady's  mysterious  seclusion  ?  Was  she  a  person 
of  the  strictest  and  the  most  inconvenient  integrity  ?  or  a  person 
who  could  not  be  depended  on  to  preserve  a  secret?  or  a  person 
who  was  as  artful  as  Mr.  Bygrave  himself,  and  who  was  kept  in  re- 
serve to  forward  the  object  of  some  new  deception  which  was  yet 
to  come  ?  In  the  first  two  cases,  Mrs.  Lecount  could  trust  in  her 
own  powers  of  dissimulation,  and  in  the  results  which  they  might 
achieve.  In  the  last  case  (if  no  other  end  was  gained),  it  might  be 
of  vital  importance  to  her  to  discover  an  enemy  hidden  in  the  dark. 
In  any  event,  she  determined  to  run  the  risk.  Of  the  tnree  chances 
in  her  favor  on  which  she  had  reckoned  at  the  outset  of  the  strug- 
gle—  the  chance  of  entrapping  Magdalen  by  word  of  mouth,  the 
chance  of  entrapping  her  by  the  help  of  her  friends,  and  the  chance 
of  entrapping  her  by  means  of  Mrs.  Bygrave — two  had  been  tried, 
and  two  had  failed.  The  third  remained  to  be  tested  yet ;  and  the 
third  might  succeed. 


"do  totj  hear,  you  villain?" 


NO   NAMB.  3G7 

So,  the  captain's  enemy  plotted  against  him  in  the  privacy  of  her 
own  chamber,  while  the  captain  watched  the  light  in  her  window 
from  the  beach  outside. 

Before  breakfast  the  next  morning,  Captain  Wragge  posted  the 
forged  letter  to  Zurich  with  his  own  hand.  He  went  back  to  North 
Shingles  with  his  mind  not  quite  decided  on  the  course  to  take 
with  Mrs.  Lecount  during  the  all-important  interval  of  the  next  ten 
days. 

Greatly  to  his  surprise,  his  doubts  on  this  point  were  abruptly 
decided  by  Magdalen  herself. 

He  found  her  waiting  for  him  in  the  room  where  the  breakfast 
was  laid.  She  was  walking  restlessly  to  and  fro,  with  her  head 
drooping  on  her  bosom,  and  her  hair  hanging  disordered  over  her 
shoulders.  The  moment  she  looked  up  on  his  entrance,  the  captain 
felt  the  fear  which  Mrs.  Wragge  had  felt  before  him — the  fear  that 
her  mind  would  be  struck  prostrate  again,  as  it  had  been  struck 
once  already,  when  Frank's  letter  reached  her  in  Vauxhall  Walk. 

"  Is  he  coming  again  to-day  ?"  she  asked,  pushing  away  from  her 
the  chair  which  Captain  Wragge  offered,  with  such  violence  that 
she  threw  it  on  the  floor. 

"  Yes,"  said  the  captain,  wisely  answering  her  in  the  fewest  words. 
"  He  is  coming  at  two  o'clock." 

"  Take  me  away !"  she  exclaimed,  tossing  her  hair  back  wildly 
from  her  face.  "  Take  me  away  before  he  comes.  I  can't  get  over 
the  horror  of  marrying  him  while  I  am  in  this  hateful  place ;  take 
me  somewhere  where  I  can  forget  it,  or  I  shall  go  mad  !  Give  me 
two  days'  rest — two  days  out  of  sight  of  that  horrible  sea — two 
days  out  of  prison  in  this  horrible  house — two  days  anywhere  in 
the  wide  world  away  from  Aldborough.  I'll  come  back  with  you ! 
I'll  go  through  with  it  to  the  end  !  Only  give  me  two  days'  escape 
from  that  man  and  every  thing  belonging  to  him !  Do  you  hear, 
you  villain  ?"  she  cried,  seizing  his  arm  and  shaking  it  in  a  frenzy 
of  passion ;  "  I  have  been  tortured  enough — I  can  bear  it  no  longer !" 

There  was  but  one  way  of  quieting  her,  and  the  captain  instantly 
took  it. 

"  If  you  will  try  to  control  yourself,"  he  said,  "  you  shall  leave 
Aldborough  in  an  hour's  time." 

She  dropped  his  arm,  and  leaned  back  heavily  against  the  wall 
behind  her. 

"I'll  try,"  she  answered,  struggling  for  breath,  but  looking  at 
him  less  wildly.  "  You  sha'n't  complain  of  me,  if  I  can  help  it." 
She  attempted  confusedly  to  take  her  handkerchief  from  her  apron 
pocket,  and  failed  to  find  it.  The  captain  took  it  out  for  her.  Her 
eyes  softened,  and  she  drew  her  breath  more  freely  as  she  received 


368  NO   NAME. 

the  handkerchief  from  him.  "  You  are  a  kinder  man  than  I  thought 
you  were,"  she  said ;  "  I  am  sorry  I  spoke  so  passionately  to  you  just 
now — I  am  very,  very  sorry."  The  tears  stole  into  her  eyes,  and  she 
offered  him  her  hand  with  the  native  grace  and  gentleness  of  hap- 
pier days.  "  Be  friends  with  me  again,"  she  said,  pleadingly.  "I'm 
only  a  girl,  Captain  Wragge — I'm  only  a  girl !" 

He  took  her  hand  in  silence,  patted  it  for  a  moment,  and  then 
opened  the  door  for  her  to  go  back  to  her  own  room  again.  There 
was  genuine  regret  in  his  face  as  he  showed  her  that  trifling  atten- 
tion. He  was  a  vagabond  and  a  cheat ;  he  had  lived  a  mean,  shuf- 
fling, degraded  life,  but  he  was  human;  and  she  had  found  her 
way  to  the  lost  sympathies  in  him  which  not  even  the  self-profana- 
tion of  a  swindler's  existence  could  wholly  destroy.  "  Damn  the 
breakfast !"  he  said,  when  the  servant  came  in  for  her  orders.  "  Go 
to  the  inn  directly,  and  say  I  want  a  carriage  and  pair  at  the  door 
in  an  hour's  time."  He  went  out  into  the  passage,  still  chafing 
under  a  sense  of  mental  disturbance  which  was  new  to  him,  and 
shouted  to  his  wife  more  fiercely  than  ever  —  "Pack  up  what  we 
want  for  a  week's  absence,  and  be  ready  in  half  an  hour !"  Having 
issued  those  directions,  he  returned  to  the  breakfast-room,  and  look- 
ed at  the  half-spread  table  with  an  impatient  wonder  at  his  disin- 
clination to  do  justice  to  his  own  meal.  "  She  has  rubbed  off  the 
edge  of  my  appetite,"  he  said  to  himself,  with  a  forced  laugh.  "  I'll 
try  a  cigar,  and  a  turn  in  the  fresh  air." 

If  he  had  been  twenty  years  younger,  those  remedies  might  have 
failed  him.  But  where  is  the  man  to  be  found  whose  internal  policy 
succumbs  to  revolution  when  that  man  is  on  the  wrong  side  of  fifty  ? 
Exercise  and  change  of  place  gave  the  captain  back  into  the  posses- 
sion of  himself.  He  recovered  the  lost  sense  of  the  flavor  of  his  ci- 
gar, and  recalled  his  wandering  attention  to  the  question  of  his  ap- 
proaching absence  from  Aldborough.  A  few  minutes'  consideration 
satisfied  his  mind  that  Magdalen's  outbreak  had  forced  him  to  take 
the  course  of  all  others  which,  on  a  fair  review  of  existing  emergen- 
cies, it  was  now  most  desirable  to  adopt. 

Captain  Wragge's  inquiries  on  the  evening  when  he  and  Magda- 
len had  drunk  tea  at  Sea  View  had  certainly  informed  him  that  the 
housekeeper's  brother  possessed  a  modest  competence ;  that  his  sis- 
ter was  his  nearest  living  relative;  and  that  there  were  some  un- 
scrupulous cousins  on  the  spot  who  were  anxious  to  usurp  the  place 
in  his  will  which  properly  belonged  to  Mrs.  Lecount.  Here  were 
strong  motives  to  take  the  housekeeper  to  Zurich  when  the  false  re- 
port of  her  brother's  relapse  reached  England.  But  if  any  idea  of 
Noel  Vanstone's  true  position  dawned  on  her  in  the  mean  time,  who 
could  say  whether  she  might  not,  at  the  eleventh  hour,  prefer  as- 
serting her  large  pecuniary  interest  in  her  master,  to  defending  her 


NO   NAME.  869 

small  pecuniary  interest  at  her  brother's  bedside  ?  While  that 
question  remained  undecided,  the  plain  necessity  of  checking  the 
growth  of  Noel  Vanstone's  intimacy  with  the  family  at  North 
Shingles  did  not  admit  of  a  doubt ;  and  of  all  means  of  effecting 
that  object,  none  could  be  less  open  to  suspicion  than  the  tempo- 
rary removal  of  the  household  from  their  residence  at  Aldborough. 
Thoroughly  satisfied  with  the  soundness  of  this  conclusion,  Captain 
Wragge  made  straight  for  Sea-view  Cottage,  to  apologize  and  ex- 
plain before  the  carriage  came  and  the  departure  took  place. 

Noel  Vanstone  was  easily  accessible  to  visitors  :  he  was  walking 
in  the  garden  before  breakfast.  His  disappointment  and  vexation 
were  freely  expressed  when  he  heard  the  news  which  his  friend  had 
to  communicate.  The  captain's  fluent  tongue,  however,  soon  im- 
pressed on  him  the  necessity  of  resignation  to  present  circumstances. 
The  bare  hint  that  the  "pious  fraud"  might  fail  after  all,  if  any 
thing  happened  in  the  ten  days'  interval  to  enlighten  Mrs.  Lecount, 
had  an  instant  effect  in  making  Noel  Vanstone  as  patient  and  as 
submissive  as  could  be  wished. 

"  I  won't  tell  you  where  we  are  going,  for  two  good  reasons,"  said 
Captain  Wragge,  when  his  preliminary  explanations  were  com- 
pleted. "  In  the  first  place,  I  haven't  made  up  my  mind  yet ;  and, 
in  the  second  place,  if  you  don't  know  where  our  destination  is,  Mrs. 
Lecount  can't  worm  it  out  of  you.  I  have  not  the  least  doubt  she 
is  watching  us  at  this  moment  from  behind  her  window-curtain. 
When  she  asks  what  I  wanted  with  you  this  morning,  tell  her  I 
came  to  say  good-bye  for  a  few  days,  finding  my  niece  not  so  well 
again,  and  wishing  to  take  her  on  a  short  visit  to  some  friends  to 
try  change  of  air.  If  you  could  produce  an  impression  on  Mrs.  Le- 
count's  mind  (without  overdoing  it),  that  you  are  a  little  disappoint- 
ed in  me,  and  that  you  are  rather  inclined  to  doubt  my  heartiness  in 
cultivating  your  acquaintance,  you  will  greatly  help  our  present  ob- 
ject. You  may  depend  on  our  return  to  North  Shingles  in  four  or 
five  days  at  furthest.  If  any  thing  strikes  me  in  the  mean  while, 
the  post  is  always  at  our  service,  and  I  won't  fail  to  write  to  you." 

"  Won't  Miss  Bygrave  write  to  me  ?"  inquired  Noel  Vanstone,  pit- 
eously.  "  Did  she  know  you  were  coming  here  ?  Did  she  send  me 
no  message  ?" 

"  Unpardonable  on  my  part  to  have  forgotten  it !"  cried  the  cap- 
tain.    "  She  sent  you  her  love." 

Noel  Vanstone  closed  his  eyes  in  silent  ecstasy. 

When  he  opened  them  again  Captain  Wragge  had  passed  through 
the  garden  gate  and  was  on  his  way  back  to  North  Shingles.  As 
soon  as  his  own  door  had  closed  on  him,  Mrs.  Lecount  descended 
from  the  post  of  observation  which  the  captain  had  rightly  suspect- 
ed her  of  occupying,  and  addressed  the  inquiry  to  her  master  which 


370  NO    NAME. 

the  captain  had  rightly  foreseen  would  follow  his  departure.  The 
reply  she  received  produced  but  one  impression  on  her  mind.  She 
at  once  set  it  down  as  a  falsehood,  and  returned  to  her  own  window 
to  keep  watch  over  North  Shingles  more  vigilantly  than  ever. 

To  her  utter  astonishment,  after  a  lapse  of  less  than  half  an  hour 
she  saw  an  empty  carriage  draw  up  at  Mr.  Bygrave's  door.  Lug- 
gage was  brought  out  and  packed  on  the  vehicle.  Miss  Bygrave 
appeared,  and  took  her  seat  in  it.  She  was  followed  into  the  car- 
riage by  a  lady  of  great  size  and  stature,  whom  the  housekeeper 
conjectured  to  be  Mrs.  Bygrave.  The  servant  came  next,  and  stood 
waiting  on  the  path.  The  last  person  to  appear  was  Mr.  Bygrave. 
He  locked  the  house  door,  and  took  the  key  away  with  him  to  a 
cottage  near  at  hand,  which  was  the  residence  of  the  landlord  of 
North  Shingles.  On  his  return,  he  nodded  to  the  servant,  who 
walked  away  by  herself  toward  the  humbler  quarter  of  the  little 
town,  and  joined  the  ladies  in  the  carriage.  The  coachman  mount- 
ed the  box,  and  the  vehicle  disappeared. 

Mrs.  Lecount  laid  down  the  opera-glass,  through  which  she  had 
been  closely  investigating  these  proceedings,  with  a  feeling  of  help- 
less perplexity  which  she  was  almost  ashamed  to  acknowledge  to 
herself.  The  secret  of  Mr.  Bygrave's  object  in  suddenly  emptying 
his  house  at  Aldborough  of  every  living  creature  in  it  was  an  im- 
penetrable mystery  to  her. 

Submitting  herself  to  circumstances  with  a  ready  resignation 
which  Captain  Wragge  had  not  shown,  on  his  side,  in  a  similar  situ- 
ation, Mrs.  Lecount  wasted  neither  time  nor  temper  in  unprofitable 
guess-work.  She  left  the  mystery  to  thicken  or  to  clear,  as  the  fu- 
ture might  decide,  and  looked  exclusively  at  the  uses  to  which  she 
might  put  the  morning's  event  in  her  own  interests.  Whatever 
might  have  become  of  the  family  at  North  Shingles,  the  servant  was 
left  behind,  and  the  servant  was  exactly  the  person  whose  assistance 
might  now  be  of  vital  importance  to  the  housekeeper's  projects. 
Mrs.  Lecount  put  on  her  bonnet,  inspected  the  collection  of  loose  sil- 
ver in  her  purse,  and  set  forth  on  the  spot  to  make  the  servant's  ac- 
quaintance. 

She  went  first  to  the  cottage  at  which  Mr.  Bygrave  had  left  the 
key  at  North  Shingles,  to  discover  the  servant's  present  address 
from  the  landlord.  So  far  as  this  object  was  concerned,  her  errand 
proved  successful.  The  landlord  knew  that  the  girl  had  been  al- 
lowed to  go  home  for  a  few  days  to  her  friends,  and  knew  in  what 
part  of  Aldborough  her  friends  lived.  But  here  his  sources  of  in- 
formation suddenly  dried  up.  He  knew  nothing  of  the  destination 
to  which  Mr.  Bygrave  and  his  family  had  betaken  themselves,  and 
he  was  perfectly  ignorant  of  the  number  of  days  over  which  their 
absence  might  be  expected  to  extend.    All  he  could  say  was,  that 


NO    NAME.  371 

he  had  not  received  a  notice  to  quit  from  his  tenant,  and  that  he 
had  been  requested  to  keep  the  key  of  the  house  in  his  possession 
until  Mr.  By  grave  returned  to  claim  it  in  his  own  person. 

Baffled,  but  not  discouraged,  Mrs.  Lecount  turned  her  steps  next 
toward  the  back  street  of  Aldborough,  and  astonished  the  servant's 
relatives  by  conferring  on  them  the  honor  of  a  morning  call. 

Easily  imposed  on  at  starting  by  Mrs.  Lecount's  pretense  of  call- 
ing to  engage  her,  under  the  impression  that  she  had  left  Mr.  By- 
grave's  service,  the  servant  did  her  best  to  answer  the  questions  put 
to  her.  But  she  knew  as  little  as  the  landlord  of  her  master's  plans. 
All  she  could  say  about  them  was,  that  she  had  not  been  dismissed, 
and  that  she  was  to  await  the  receipt  of  a  note  recalling  her  when 
necessary  to  her  situation  at  North  Shingles.  Not  having  expected 
to  find  her  better  informed  on  this  part  of  the  subject,  Mrs.  Lecount 
smoothly  shifted  her  ground,  and  led  the  woman  into  talking  gen- 
erally of  the  advantages  and  defects  of  her  situation  in  Mr.  By- 
grave's  family. 

Profiting  by  the  knowledge  gained,  in  this  indirect  manner,  of  the 
little  secrets  of  the  household,  Mrs.  Lecount  made  two  discoveries. 
She  found  out,  in  the  first  place,  that  the  servant  (having  enough  to 
do  in  attending  to  the  coarser  part  of  the  domestic  work)  was  in  no 
position  to  disclose  the  secrets  of  Miss  Bygrave's  wardrobe,  which 
were  known  only  to  the  young  lady  herself  and  to  her  aunt.  In  the 
second  place,  the  housekeeper  ascertained  that  the  true  reason  of 
Mrs.  Bygrave's  rigid  seclusion  was  to  be  found  in  the  simple  fact 
that  she  was  little  better  than  an  idiot,  and  that  her  husband  was 
probably  ashamed  of  allowing  her  to  be  seen  in  public.  These  ap- 
parently trivial  discoveries  enlightened  Mrs.  Lecount  on  a  very  im- 
portant point  which  had  been  previously  involved  in  doubt.  She 
was  now  satisfied  that  the  likeliest  way  to  obtaining  a  private  in- 
vestigation of  Magdalen's  wardrobe  lay  through  deluding  the  imbe- 
cile lady,  and  not  through  bribing  the  ignorant  servant. 

Having  reached  that  conclusion — pregnant  witli  coming  assaults 
on  the  weakly-fortified  discretion  of  poor  Mrs.  Wragge— the  house- 
keeper cautiously  abstained  from  exhibiting  herself  any  longer  un- 
der an  inquisitive  aspect.  She  changed  the  conversation  to  local 
topics,  waited  until  she  was  sure  of  leaving  an  excellent  impression 
behind  her,  and  then  took  her  leave. 

Three  clays  passed ;  and  Mrs.  Lecount  and  her  master — each  with 
their  widely-different  ends  in  view — watched  with  equal  anxiety  for 
the  first  signs  of  returning  life  in  the  direction  of  North  Shingles. 
In  that  interval,  no  letter  either  from  the  uncle  or  the  niece  arrived 
for  Noel  Vanstone.  His  sincere  feeling  of  irritation  under  this  neg- 
lectful treatment  greatly  assisted  the  effect  of  those  feigned  doubts 


372  NO   NAME. 

on  the  subject  of  his  absent  friends  which  the  captain  had  recom- 
mended him  to  express  in  the  housekeeper's  presence.  He  con- 
fessed his  apprehensions  of  having  been  mistaken,  not  in  Mr.  By- 
grave  only,  but  even  in  his  niece  as  well,  with  such  a  genuine  air  of 
annoyance  that  he  actually  contributed  a  new  element  of  confusion 
to  the  existing  perplexities  of  Mrs.  Lecount. 

On  the  morning  of  the  fourth  day  Noel  Vanstone  met  the  post- 
man in  the  garden  ;  and,  to  his  great  relief,  discovered  among  the 
letters  delivered  to  him  a  note  from  Mr.  Bygrave. 

The  date  of  the  note  was  "  Woodbridge,"  and  it  contained  a  few 
lines  only.  Mr.  Bygrave  mentioned  that  his  niece  was  better,  and 
that  she  sent  her  love  as  before.  He  proposed  returning  to  Aldbor- 
ough  on  the  next  day,  when  he  would  have  some  new  considerations 
of  a  strictly  private  nature  to  present  to  Mr.  Noel  Vanstone's  mind. 
In  the  mean  time  he  would  beg  Mr.  Vanstone  not  to  call  at  North 
Shingles  until  he  received  a  special  invitation  to  do  so — which  in- 
vitation should  certainly  be  given  on  the  day  when  the  family  re- 
turned. The  motive  of  this  apparently  strange  request  should  be 
explained  to  Mr.  Vanstone's  perfect  satisfaction  when  he  was  once 
more  united  to  his  friends.  ,  Until  that  period  arrived,  the  strictest 
caution  was  enjoined  on  him  in  all  his  communications  with  Mrs. 
Lecount ;  and  the  instant  destruction  of  Mr.  Bygrave's  letter,  after 
due  perusal  of  it,  was  (if  the  classical  phrase  might  be  pardoned)  a 
sine  qua  non. 

The  fifth  day  came.  Noel  Vanstone  (after  submitting  himself  to 
the  sine  qua  non,  and  destroying  the  letter)  waited  anxiously  for  re- 
sults ;  while  Mrs.  Lecount,  on  her  side,  watched  patiently  for  events. 
Toward  three  o'clock  in  the  afternoon  the  carriage  appeared  again 
at  the  gate  of  North  Shingles.  Mr.  Bygrave  got  out  and  tripped 
away  briskly  to  the  landlord's  cottage  for  the  key.  He  returned 
with  the  servant  at  his  heels.  Miss  Bygrave  left  the  carriage;  her 
giant  relative  followed  her  example ;  the  house  door  was  opened ; 
the  trunks  were  taken  off;  the  carriage  disappeared,  and  the  By- 
graves  were  at  home  again  ! 

Four  o'clock  struck,  five  o'clock,  six  o'clock,  and  nothing  hap- 
pened. In  half  an  hour  more,  Mr.  Bygrave — spruce,  speckless,  and 
respectable  as  ever — appeared  on  the  Parade,  sauntering  composed- 
ly in  the  direction  of  Sea  View. 

Instead  of  at  once  entering  the  house,  he  passed  it ;  stopped,  as 
if  struck  by  a  sudden  recollection ;  and,  retracing  his  steps,  asked  for 
Mr.  Vanstone  at  the  door.  Mr.  Vanstone  came  out  hospitably  into 
the  passage.  Pitching  his  voice  to  a  tone  which  could  be  easily 
heard  by  any  listening  individual  through  any  open  door  in  the 
bedroom  regions,  Mr.  Bygrave  announced  the  object,  of  his  visit  on 
the  door-mat  in  the  fewest  possible  words.     He  had  been  staying 


NO    NAME.  373 

with  a  distant  relative.  The  distant  relative  possessed  two  pictures 
— Gems  by  the  Old  Masters — which  he  was  willing  to  dispose  of, 
and  which  he  had  intrusted  for  that  purpose  to  Mr.  Bygrave's  care. 
If  Mr.  Noel  Vanstone,  as  an  amateur  in  such  matters,  wished  to  see 
the  Gems,  they  would  be  visible  in  half  an  hour's  time,  when  Mr. 
Bygrave  would  have  returned  to  North  Shingles. 

Having  delivered  himself  of  this  incomprehensible  announcement, 
the  arch-conspirator  laid  his  significant  forefinger  along  the  side  of 
his  short  Roman  nose,  said,  "Fine  weather,  isn't  it?  Good-after- 
noon !"  and  sauntered  out  inscrutably  to  continue  his  walk  on  the 
Parade. 

On  the  expiration  of  the  half-hour  Noel  Vanstone  presented  him- 
self at  North  Shingles,  with  the  ardor  of  a  lover  burning  inextin- 
guishably in  his  bosom,  through  the  superincumbent  mental  fog  of 
a  thoroughly  bewildered  man.  To  his  inexpressible  happiness,  he 
found  Magdalen  alone  in  the  parlor.  Never  yet  had  she  looked  so 
beautiful  in  his  eyes.  The  rest  and  relief  of  her  four  days'  absence 
from  Aldborough  had  not  failed  to  produce  their  results ;  she  had 
more  than  recovered  her  composure.  Vibrating  perpetually  from 
one  violent  extreme  to  another,  she  had  now  passed  from  the  pas- 
sionate despair  of  five  days  since  to  a  feverish  exaltation  of  spirits 
which  defied  all  remorse  and  confronted  all  consequences.  Her 
eyes  sparkled ;  her  cheeks  were  bright  with  color ;  she  talked  inces- 
santly, with  a  forlorn  mockery  of  the  girlish  gayety  of  past  days ; 
she  laughed  with  a  deplorable  persistency  in  laughing ;  she  imitated 
Mrs.  Lecount's  smooth  voice,  and  Mrs.-Lecount's  insinuating  graces 
of  manner,  with  an  overcharged  resemblance  to  the  original,  which 
was  but  the  coarse  reflection  of  the  delicately-accurate  mimicry  of 
former  times.  Noel  Vanstone,  who  had  never  yet  seen  her  as  he 
saw  her  now,  was  enchanted ;  his  weak  head,  whirled  with  an  in- 
toxication of  enjoyment ;  his  wizen  cheeks  flushed  as  if  they  had 
caught  the  infection  from  hers.  The  half-hour  during  which  he 
was  alone  with  her  passed  like  five  minutes  to  him.  When  that 
time  had  elapsed,  and  when  she  suddenly  left  him — to  obey  a  pre- 
viously-arranged summons  to  her  aunt's  presence — miser  as  he  was, 
he  would  have  paid  at  that  moment  five  golden  sovereigns  out  of 
his  pocket  for  five  golden  minutes  more  passed  in  her  society. 

The  door  had  hardly  closed  on  Magdalen  before  it  opened  again, 
and  the  captain  walked  in.  He  entered  on  the  explanations  which 
his  visitor  naturally  expected  from  him  with  the  unceremonious 
abruptness  of  a  man  hard  pressed  for  time,  and  determined  to  make 
the  most  of  every  moment  at  his  disposal. 

"  Since  we  last  saw  each  other,"  he  began,  "  I  have  been  reckon- 
ing up  the  chances  for  and  against  us  as  we  stand  at  present.  The 
result  on  my  own  mind  is  this :  If  you  are  still  at  Aldborough  when 


374  NO    NAME. 

that  letter  from  Zurich  reaches  Mrs.  Lecount,  all  the  pains  we  have 
taken  will  have  been  pains  thrown  away.  If  your  housekeeper  had 
fifty  brothers  all  dying  together,  she  would  throw  the  whole  fifty 
over,  sooner  than  leave  you  alone  at  Sea  View  while  we  are  your 
neighbors  at  North  Shingles." 

Noel  Vanstone's  flushed  cheek  turned  pale  with  dismay.  His 
own  knowledge  of  Mrs.  Lecount  told  him  that  this  view  of  the  case 
was  the  right  one. 

"  If  we  go  away  again,"  proceeded  the  captain,  "  nothing  will  be 
gained,  for  nothing  would  persuade  your  housekeeper,  in  that  case, 
that  we  have  not  left  you  the  means  of  following  us.  You  must 
leave  Aldborough  this  time ;  and,  what  is  more,  you  must  go  with- 
out leaving  a  single  visible  trace  behind  you  for  us  to  follow.  If 
we  accomplish  this  object  in  the  course  of  the  next  five  days,  Mrs. 
Lecount  will  take  the  journey  to  Zurich.  If  we  fail,  she  will  be  a 
fixture  at  Sea  View,  to  a  dead  certainty.  Don't  ask  questions !  I 
have  got  your  instructions  ready  for  you,  and  I  want  your  closest 
attention  to  them.  Your  marriage  with  my  niece  depends  on  your 
not  forgetting  a  word  of  what  I  am  now  going  to  tell  you. — One 
question  first.  Have  you  followed  my  advice  ?  Have  you  told 
Mrs.  Lecount  you  are  beginning  to  think  yourself  mistaken  in 
me?" 

"  I  did  worse  than  that,"  replied  Noel  Vanstone,  penitently.  "  I 
committed  an  outrage  on  my  own  feelings.  I  disgraced  myself  by 
saying  that  I  doubted  Miss  By  grave  !" 

"  Go  on  disgracing  yourself,  my  dear  sir !  Doubt  us  both  with  all 
your  might,  and  I'll  help  you.  One  question  more.  Did  I  speak 
loud  enough  this  afternoon  ?     Did  Mrs.  Lecount  hear  me  ?" 

"Yes.  Lecount  opened  her  door;  Lecount  heard  you.  What 
made  you  give  me  that  message  ?  I  see  no  pictures  here.  Is  this 
another  pious  fraud,  Mr.  By  grave  ?" 

"  Admirably  guessed,  Mr.  Vanstone  !  You  will  see  the  object  of 
my  imaginary  picture-dealing  in  the  very  next  words  which  I  am 
now  about  to  address  to  you.  When  you  get  back  to  Sea  View,  this 
is  what  you  are  to  say  to  Mrs.  Lecount.  Tell  her  that  my  relative's 
works  of  Art  are  two  worthless  pictures — copies  from  the  Old  Mas- 
ters, which  I  have  tried  to  sell  you  as  originals  at  an  exorbitant  price. 
Say  you  suspect  me  of  being  little  better  than  a  plausible  impostor, 
and  pity  my  unfortunate  niece  for  being  associated  with  such  a  ras- 
cal as  I  am.  There  is  your  text  to  speak  from.  Say  in  many  words 
what  I  have  just  said  in  a  few.     You  can  do  that,  can't  you  ?" 

"  Of  course  I  can  do  it,"  said  Noel  Vanstone.  "  But  I  can  tell  you 
one  thing — Lecount  won't  believe  me." 

"  Wait  a  little,  Mr.  Vanstone ;  I  have  not  done  with  my  instruc- 
tions yet.     You  understand  what  I  have  just  told  you  ?     Very  good 


NO   NAME.  375 

We  may  get  on  from  to-day  to  to-morrow.  Go  out  to-morrow  with 
Mrs.  Lecount  at  your  usual  time.  I  will  meet  you  on  the  Parade, 
and  bow  to  you.  Instead  of  returning  my  bow,  look  the  other  way. 
In  plain  English,  cut  me  !     That  is  easy  enough  to  do,  isn't  it  ?" 

"  She  won't  believe  me,  Mr.  Bygrave — she  won't  believe  me  ?" 

"  Wait  a  little  again,  Mr.  Vanstone.  There  are  more  instructions 
to  come.  You  have  got  your  directions  for  to-day,  and  you  have 
got  your  directions  for  to-morrow.  Now  for  the  day  after.  The 
day  after  is  the  seventh  day  since  we  sent  the  letter  to  Ziirich.  On 
the  seventh  day  decline  to  go  out  walking  as  before,  from  dread  of 
the  annoyance  of  meeting  me  again.  Grumble  about  the  smallness 
of  the  place ;  complain  of  your  health ;  wish  you  had  never  come  to 
Aldborough,  and  never  made  acquaintances  with  the  Bygraves ;  and 
when  you  have  well  worried  Mrs.  Lecount  with  your  discontent,  ask 
her  on  a  sudden  if  she  can't  suggest  a  change  for  the  better.  If  you 
put  that  question  to  her  naturally,  do  you  think  she  can  be  depend- 
ed on  to  answer  it  ?" 

"  She  won't  want  to  be  questioned  at  all,"  replied  Noel  Vanstone, 
irritably.  "  I  have  only  got  to  say  I  am  tired  of  Aldborough ;  and, 
if  she  believes  me  —  which  she  won't;  I'm  quite  positive,  Mr.  By- 
grave,  she  won't ! — she  will  have  her  suggestion  ready  before  I  can 
ask  for  it." 

"Ay !  ay  !"  said  the  captain,  eagerly.  "  There  is  some  place,  then, 
that  Mrs.  Lecount  wants  to  go  to  this  autumn  ?" 

"  She  wants  to  go  there  (hang  her !)  every  autumn." 

"  To  go  where  ?" 

"  To  Admiral  Bartram's — you  don't  know  him,  do  you  ? — at  St. 
Crux-in-the-Marsh." 

"  Don't  lose  your  patience,  Mr.  Vanstone  !  What  you  are  now  tell- 
ing me  is  of  the  most  vital  importance  to  the  object  we  have  in  view. 
Who  is  Admiral  Bartram  ?" 

"An  old  friend  of  my  father's.  My  father  laid  him  under  obliga- 
tions— my  father  lent  him  money  when  they  were  both  young  men. 
I  am  like  one  of  the  family  at  St.  Crux ;  my  room  is  always  kept 
ready  for  me.  Not  that  there's  any  family  at  the  admiral's  except 
his  nephew,  George  Bartram.  George  is  my  cousin  ;  I'm  as  intimate 
with  George  as  my  father  was  with  the  admiral ;  and  I've  been  sharp- 
er than  my  father,  for  I  haven't  lent  my  friend  any  money.  Lecount 
always  makes  a  show  of  liking  George — I  believe  to  annoy  me.  She 
likes  the  admiral  too ;  he  flatters  her  vanity.  He  always  invites  her 
to  come  with  me  to  St.  Crux.  He  lets  her  have  one  of  the  best  bed- 
rooms, and  treats  her  as  if  she  was  a  lady.  She's  as  proud  as  Luci- 
fer— she  bikes  being  treated  like  a  lady — and  she  pesters  me  every 
autumn  to  go  to  St.  Crux.  What's  the  matter  ?  What  are  you  tab 
ing  out  your  pocket-book  for  V 


376  NO    NAME. 

"I  want  the  admiral's  address,  Mr.  Vanstone,  for  a  purpose  which 
I  will  explain  immediately." 

With  those  words,  Captain  Wragge  opened  his  pocket-book  and 
wrote  down  the  address  from  Noel  Vanstone's  dictation,  as  follows  : 
"Admiral  Bartram,  St.  Crux-in-the-Marsh,  near  Ossory,  Essex." 

"Good!"  cried  the  captain,  closing  his  pocket  book  again.  "The 
only  difficulty  that  stood  in  our  way  is  now  cleared  out  of  it.  Pa- 
tience, Mr.  Vanstone — patience  !  Let  us  take  up  my  instructions 
again  at  the  point  where  we  dropped  them.  Give  me  five  minutes 
more  attention,  and  you  will  see  your  way  to  your  marriage  as  plain- 
ly as  I  see  it.  On  the  day  after  to-morrow  you  declare  you  are  tired 
of  Aldborough,  and  Mrs.  Lecount  suggests  St.  Crux.  You  don't 
say  yes  or  no  on  the  spot  ;  you  take  the  next  day  to  consider  it,  and 
you  make  up  your  mind  the  last  thing  at  night  to  go  to  St.  Crux  the 
first  thing  in  the  morning.  Are  you  in  the  habit  of  superintending 
your  own  packing  up,  or  do  you  usually  shift  all  the  trouble  of  it 
on  Mrs.  Lecount's  shoulders  ?" 

"Lecount  has  all  the  trouble,  of  course  ;  Lecount  is  paid  for  it ! 
But  I  don't  really  go,  do  1 1" 

"  You  go  as  fast  as  horses  can  take  you  to  the  railway  without 
having  held  any  previous  communication  with  this  house,  either 
personally  or  by  letter.  You  leave  Mrs.  Lecount  behind  to  pack  up 
your  curiosities,  to  settle  with  the  trades-people,  and  to  follow  you 
to  St.  Crux  the  next  morning.  The  next  morning  is  the  tenth  morn- 
ing. On  the  tenth  morning  she  receives  the  letter  from  Zurich ;  and 
if  you  only  carry  out  my  instructions,  Mr.  Vanstone,  as  sure  as  you 
sit  there,  to  Zurich  she  goes." 

Noel  Vanstone's  color  began  to  rise  again,  as  the  captain's  strata- 
gem dawned  on  him  at  last  in  its  true  light. 

"  And  what  am  I  to  do  at  St.  Crux  ?"  he  inquired. 

"  Wait  there  till  I  call  for  you,"  replied  the  captain.  "  As  soon  as 
Mrs.  Lecount's  back  is  turned,  I  will  go  to  the  church  here  and  give 
the  necessary  notice  of  the  marriage.  The  same  day  or  the  next,  I 
will  travel  to  the  address  written  down  in  my  pocket-book,  pick  you 
up  at  the  admiral's,  and  take  you  on  to  London  with  me  to  get  the 
license.  With  that  document  in  our  possession,  we  shall  be  on 'our 
way  back  to  Aldborough  while  Mrs.  Lecount  is  on  her  way  out  to 
Zurich  ;  and  before  she  starts  on  her  return  journey,  you  and  my 
niece  will  be  man  and  wife  !  There  are  your  future  prospects  for 
you.     What  do  you  think  of  them  1" 

"What  a  head  you  have  got !"  cried  Noel  Vanstone,  in  a  sudden 
outburst  of  enthusiasm.  "  You're  the  most  extraordinary  man  I 
ever  met  with.  One  would  think  you  had  done  nothing  all  your 
life  but  take  people  in." 

Captain  Wragge  received  that   unconscious  tribute  to   his  native 


NO   NAME.  377 

genius  with  the  complacency  of  a  man  who  felt  that  he  thoroughly 
deserved  it. 

"I  have  told  you  already,  my  dear  sir,"  lie  said,  modestly, "  that  I 
never  do  thiugs  by  halves.  Pardon  me  for  reminding  you  that  we 
have  no  time  for  exchanging  mutual  civilities.  Are  you  quite  sure 
about  your  instructions  ?  I  dare  not  write  them  down,  for  fear  of 
accidents.  Try  the  system  of  artificial  memory;  count  your  instruc- 
tions off  after  me,  on  your  thumb  and  your  four  fingers.  To-day 
you  tell  Mrs.  Lecount  I  have  tried  to  take  you  in  with  my  relative's 
works  of  Art.  To-morrow  you  cut  me  on  the  Parade.  The  day 
after  you  refuse  to  go  out,  you  get  tired  of  Aldborough,  and  you 
allow  Mrs.  Lecount  to  make  her  suggestion.  The  next  day  you  ac- 
cept the  suggestion.  And  the  next  day  to  that  you  go  to  St.  Crux. 
Once  more,  my  dear  sir !  Thumb — works  of  Art.  Forefinger — cut 
me  on  the  Parade.  Middle  finger — tired  of  Aldborough.  Third 
finger  —  take  Lecount's  advice.  Little  finger  —  off  to  St.  Crux. 
Nothing  can  be  clearer — nothing  can  be  easier  to  do.  Is  there  any 
thing  you  don't  understand  ?  Any  thing  that  I  can  explain  over 
again  before  you  go  V 

"  Only  one  thing,"  said  Noel  Vanstone.  "  Is  it  settled  that  I  am 
not  to  come  here  again  before  I  go  to  St.  Crux  ?" 

"  Most  decidedly  !"  answered  the  captain.  "  The  whole  success 
of  the  enterprise  depends  on  your  keeping  away.  Mm  Lecount 
will  try  the  credibility  of  every  thing  you  say  to  her  by  one  test — 
the  test  of  your  communicating,  or  not,  with  this  house.  She  will 
watch  you  night  and  day !  Don't  call  here,  don't  send  messages, 
don't  write  letters ;  don't  even  go  out  by  yourself.  Let  her  see  you 
start  for  St.  Crux  on  her  suggestion,  with  the  absolute  certainty  in 
her  own  mind  that  you  have  followed  her  advice  without  communi- 
cating it  in  any  form  whatever  to  me  or  to  my  niece.  Do  that,  and 
she  must  believe  you,  on  the  best  of  all  evidence  for  our  interests, 
and  the  worst  for  hers — the  evidence  of  her  own  senses." 

With  those  last  words  of  caution,  he  shook  the  little  man  warmly 
by  the  hand,  and  sent  him  home  on  the  spot. 


CHAPTER  X. 

On  returning  to  Sea  View,  Noel  Vanstone  executed  the  instruc- 
tions which  prescribed  his  line  of  conduct  for  the  first  of  the  five 
days  with  unimpeachable  accuracy.  A  faint  smile  of  contempt 
hovered  about  Mrs.  Lecount's  lips  while  the  story  of  Mr.  Bygrave's 
attempt  to  pass  off  his  spurious  pictures  as  originals  was  in  prog- 
ress, but  she  did  not  trouble  herself  to  utter  a  single  word  of  re- 


378  NO   NAME. 

mark  when  it  had  come  to  an  end.  "  Just  what  I  said !"  thought 
Noel  Vanstone,  cunningly  watching  her  face ;  "  she  doesn't  believe 
a  word  of  it !" 

The  next  day  the  meeting  occurred  on  the  Parade.  Mr.  Bygrave 
took  off  his  hat,  and  Noel  Vanstone  looked  the  other  way.  The 
captain's  start  of  surprise  and  scowl  of  indignation  were  executed 
to  perfection,  but  they  plainly  failed  to  impose  on  Mrs.  Lecount. 
"  I  am  afraid,  sir,  you  have  offended  Mr.  Bygrave  to-day,"  she  iron- 
ically remarked.  "  Happily  for  you,  he  is  an  excellent  Christian ! 
and  I  venture  to  predict  that  he  will  forgive  you  to-morrow." 

Noel  Vanstone  wisely  refrained  from  committing  himself  to  an 
answer.  Once  more  he  privately  applauded  his  own  penetration; 
once  more  he  triumphed  over  his  ingenious  friend. 

Thus  far  the  captain's  instructions  had  been  too  clear  and  simple 
to  be  mistaken  by  any  one.  But  they  advanced  in  complication 
with  the  advance  of  time,  and  on  the  third  day  Noel  Vanstone  fell 
confusedly  into  the  commission  of  a  slight  error.  After  expressing 
the  necessary  weariness  of  Aldborough,  and  the  consequent  anxiety 
for  change  of  scene,  he  was  met  (as  he  had  anticipated)  by  an  im- 
mediate suggestion  from  the  housekeeper,  recommending  a  visit  to 
St.  Crux.  In  giving  his  answer  to  the  advice  thus  tendered,  he 
made  his  first  mistake.  Instead  of  deferring  his  decision  until  the 
next  day,  he  accepted  Mrs.  Lecount's  suggestion  on  the  day  when  it 
was  offered  to  him. 

The  consequences  of  this  error  were  of  no  great  importance.  The 
housekeeper  merely  set  herself  to  watch  her  master  one  day  earlier 
than  had  been  calculated  on  —  a  result  which  had  been  already 
provided  for  by  the  wise  precautionary  measure  of  forbidding  Noel 
Vanstone  all  communication  with  North  Shingles.  Doubting,  as 
Captain  Wragge  had  foreseen,  the  sincerity  of  her  master's  desire  to 
break  off  his  connection  with  the  Bygraves  by  going  to  St.  Crux, 
Mrs.  Lecount  tested  the  truth  or  falsehood  of  the  impression  pro- 
duced on  her  own  mind  by  vigilantly  watching  for  signs  of  secret 
communication  on  one  side  or  on  the  other.  The  close  attention 
with  which  she  had  hitherto  observed  the  outgoings  and  incomings 
at  North  Shingles  was  now  entirely  transferred  to  her  master.  For 
the  rest  of  that  third  day  she  never  let  him  out  of  her  sight ;  she 
never  allowed  any  third  person  who  came  to  the  house,  on  any  pre- 
tense whatever,  a  minute's  chance  of  private  communication  with 
him.  At  intervals  through  the  night  she  stole  to  the  door  of  his 
room,  to  listen  and  assure  herself  that  he  was  in  bed;  and  before 
sunrise  the  next  morning,  the  coast-guardsman  going  his  rounds  was 
surprised  to  see  a  lady  who  had  risen  as  early  as  himself  engaged 
over  her  work  at  one  of  the  upper  windows  of  Sea  View. 

On  the  fourth  morning  Noel  Vanstone  came  down  to  breakfast 


NO   NAME.  379 

conscious  of  the  mistake  that  he  had  committed  on  the  previous 
day.  The  obvious  course  to  take,  for  the  purpose  of  gaining  time, 
was  to  declare  thai  his  mind  was  still  undecided.  He  made  the 
assertion  boldly  when  the  housekeeper  asked  him  if  he  meant  to 
move  that  day.  Again  Mrs.  Lecount  offered  no  remark,  and  again 
the  signs  and  tokens  of  incredulity  showed  themselves  in  her  face. 
Vacillation  of  purpose  was  not  at  all  unusual  in  her  experience  of 
her  master.  But  on  this  occasion  she  believed  that  his  caprice  of 
conduct  was  assumed  for  the  purpose  of  gaining  time  to  communi- 
cate with  North  Shingles,  and  she  accordingly  set  her  watch  on  him 
once  more  wdth  doubled  and  trebled  vigilance. 

No  letters  came  that  morning.  Toward  noon  the  weather  changed 
for  the  worse,  and  all  idea  of  walking  out  as  usual  wTas  abandoned. 
Hour  after  hour,  while  her  master  sat  in  one  of  the  parlors,  Mrs.  Le- 
count kept  watch  in  the  other,  with  the  door  into  the  passage  open, 
and  with  a  full  view  of  North  Shingles  through  the  convenient  side- 
window  at  which  she  had  established  herself.  Not  a  sign  that  was 
suspicious  appeared,  not  a  sound  that  wyas  suspicious  caught  her  ear. 
As  the  evening  closed  in,  her  master's  hesitation  came  to  an  end. 
He  was  disgusted  with  the  weather ;  he  hated  the  place ;  he  foresaw 
the  annoyance  of  more  meetings  with  Mr.  Bygrave,  and  he  was  de- 
termined to  go  to  St.  Crux  the  first  thing  the  next  morning.  Le- 
count could  stay  behind  to  pack  up  the  curiosities  and  settle  with 
the  trades-people,  and  could  follow  him  to  the  admiral's  on  the 
next  day.  The  housekeeper  was  a  little  staggered  by  the  tone  and 
manner  in  which  he  gave  these  orders.  He  had,  to  her  own  certain 
knowledge,  effected  no  communication  of  any  sort  with  North  Shin- 
gles, and  yet  he  seemed  determined  to  leave  Aldborough  at  the  ear- 
liest possible  opportunity.  For  the  first  time  she  hesitated  in  her 
adherence  to  her  own  conclusions.  She  remembered  that  her  mas- 
ter had  complained  of  the  Bygraves  before  they  returned  to  Ald- 
borough ;  and  she  was  conscious  that  her  own  incredulity  had  once 
already  misled  her  when  the  appearance  of  the  traveling-carriage 
at  the  door  had  proved  even  Mr.  Bygrave  himself  to  be  as  good  as 
his  word. 

Still  Mrs.  Lecount  determined  to  act  with  unrelenting  caution  to 
the  last.  That  night,  when  the  doors  were  closed,  she  privately 
removed  the  keys  from  the  door  in  front  and  the  door  at  the  back. 
She  then  softly  opened  her  bedroom  window  and  sat  down  by  it, 
with  her  bonnet  and  cloak  on,  to  prevent  her  taking  cold.  Noel 
Vanstone's  window  was  on  the  same  side  of  the  house  as  her  own. 
If  any  one  came  in  the  dark  to  speak  to  him  from  the  garden  be- 
neath, they  would  speak  to  his  housekeeper  as  well.  Prepared  at 
all  points  to  intercept  every  form  of  clandestine  communication 
*vhich  stratagem  could  invent,  Mrs.  Lecount  watched  through  the 


380  NO  NAME. 

quiet  night.  When  morning  came,  she  stole  down  stairs  before  the 
servant  was  up,  restored  the  keys  to  their  places,  and  re-occupied 
her  position  in  the  parlor  until  Noel  Vanstone  made  his  appearance 
at  the  breakfast-table.  Had  he  altered  his  mind  ?  No.  He  de- 
clined posting  to  the  railway  on  account  of  the  expense,  but  he  was 
as  firm  as  ever  in  his  resolution  to  go  to  St.  Crux.  He  desired  that 
an  inside  place  might  be  secured  for  him  in  the  early  coach.  Sus- 
picious to  the  last,  Mrs.  Lecount  sent  the  baker's  man  to  take  the 
place.  He  was  a  public  servant,  and  Mr.  Bygrave  would  not  sus- 
pect him  of  performing  a  private  errand. 

The  coach  called  at  Sea  View.  Mrs.  Lecount  saw  her  master 
established  in  his  place,  and  ascertained  that  the  other  three  inside 
seats  were  already  occupied  by  strangers.  She  inquired  of  the 
coachman  if  the  outside  places  (all  of  which  were  not  yet  filled  up) 
had  their  full  complement  of  passengers  also.  The  man  replied  in 
the  affirmative.  He  had  two  gentlemen  to  call  for  in  the  town,  and 
the  others  would  take  their  places  at  the  inn.  Mrs.  Lecount  forth- 
with turned  her  steps  toward  the  inn,  and  took  up  her  position  on 
the  Parade  opposite  from  a  point  of  view  which  would  enable  her 
to  see  the  last  of  the  coach  on  its  departure.  In  ten  minutes  more 
it  rattled  away,  full  outside  and  in ;  and  the  housekeeper's  own  eyes 
assured  her  that  neither  Mr.  Bygrave  himself,  nor  any  one  belonging 
to  North  Shingles,  was  among  the  passeugers. 

There  was  only  one  more  precaution  to  take,  and  Mrs.  Lecount 
did  not  neglect  it.  Mr.  Bygrave  had  doubtless  seen  the  coach  call 
at  Sea  View.  He  might  hire  a  carriage  and  follow  it  to  the  railway 
on  pure  speculation.  Mrs.  Lecount  remained  within  view  of  the 
inn  (the  only  place  at  which  a  carriage  could  be  obtained)  for  near- 
ly an  hour  longer,  waiting  for  events.  Nothing  happened ;  no  car- 
riage made  its  appearance ;  no  pursuit  of  Noel  Vanstone  was  now 
within  the  range  of  human  possibility.  The  long  strain  on  Mrs. 
Lecount's  mind  relaxed  at  last.  She  left  her  seat  on  the  Parade, 
and  returned  in  higher  spirits  than  usual,  to  perform  the  closing 
household  ceremonies  at  Sea  View. 

She  sat  down  alone  in  the  parlor  and  drew  a  long  breath  of  re- 
lief. Captain  Wragge's  calculations  had  not  deceived  him.  The 
evidence  of  her  own  senses  had  at  last  conquered  the  housekeeper's 
incredulity,  and  had  literally  forced  her  into  the  opposite  extreme 
of  belief. 

Estimating  the  events  of  the  last  three  days  from  her  own  experi- 
ence of  them ;  knowing  (as  she  certainly  knew)  that  the  first  idea 
of  going  to  St.  Crux  had  been  started  by  herself,  and  that  her  mas- 
ter had  found  no  opportunity  and  shown  no  inclination  to  inform 
the  family  at  North  Shingles  that  he  had  accepted  her  proposal, 
Mrs.  Lecount  was  fairly  compelled  to  acknowledge  that  not  a  frag- 


NO    NAME.  381 

ment  of  foundation  remained  to  justify  the  continued  suspicion  of 
treachery  in  her  own  mind.  Looking  at  the  succession  of  circum- 
stances under  the  new  light  thrown  on  them  by  results,  she  could 
see  nothing  unaccountable,  nothing  contradictory  anywhere.  The 
attempt  to  pass  off  the  forged  pictures  as  originals  was  in  perfect 
harmony  with  the  character  of  such  a  man  as  Mr.  Bygrave.  Her 
master's  indignation  at  the  attempt  to  impose  on  him ;  his  plainly- 
expressed  suspicion  that  Miss  Bygrave  was  privy  to  it;  his  disap- 
pointment in  the  niece ;  his  contemptuous  treatment  of  the  uncle 
on  the  Parade ;  his  weariness  of  the  place  which  had  been  the  scene 
of  his  rash  intimacy  with  strangers,  and  his  readiness  to  quit  it  that 
morning,  all  commended  themselves  as  genuine  realities  to  the 
housekeeper's  mind,  for  one  sufficient  reason.  Her  own  eyes  had 
seen  Noel  Vanstone  take  his  departure  from  Aldborough  without 
leaving,  or  attempting  to  leave,  a  single  trace  behind  him  for  the 
Bygraves  to  follow. 

Thus  far  the  housekeeper's  conclusions  led  her,  but  no  further. 
She  was  too  shrewd  a  woman  to  trust  the  future  to  chance  and  for- 
tune. Her  master's  variable  temper  might  relent.  Accident  might 
at  any  time  give  Mr.  Bygrave  an  opportunity  of  repairing  the  error 
that  he  had  committed,  and  of  artfully  regaining  his  lost  place  in 
Noel  Vanstone's  estimation.  Admitting  that  circumstances  had  at 
last  declared  themselves  unmistakably  in  her  favor,  Mrs.  Lecount 
was  not  the  less  convinced  that  nothing  would  permanently  assure 
her  master's  security  for  the  future  but  the  plain  exposure  of  the 
conspiracy  which  she  had  striven  to  accomplish  from  the  first— 
which  she  was  resolved  to  accomplish  still. 

"  I  always  enjoy  myself  at  St.  Crux,"  thought  Mrs.  Lecount,  open- 
ing her  account-books  and  sorting  the  tradesmen's  bills.  "  The 
admiral  is  a  gentleman,  the  house  is  noble,  the  table  is  excellent. 
No  matter !  Here  at  Sea  View  I  stay  by  myself  till  I  have  seen  the 
inside  of  Miss  Bygrave's  wardrobe." 

She  packed  her  master's  collection  of  curiosities  in  their  various 
cases,  settled  the  claims  of  the  trades-people,  and  superintended  the 
covering  of  the  furniture  in  the  course  of  the  day.  Toward  night- 
fall she  went  out,  bent  on  investigation,  and  ventured  into  the  gar- 
den at  North  Shingles  under  cover  of  the  darkness.  She  saw  the 
light  in  the  parlor  window,  and  the  lights  in  the  windows  of  the 
rooms  up  stairs,  as  usual.  After  an  instant's  hesitation  she  stole  to 
the  house  door,  and  noiselessly  tried  the  handle  from  the  outside. 
It  turned  the  lock  as  she  had  expected,  from  her  experience  of 
houses  at  Aldborough  and  at  other  watering-places,  but  the  door 
resisted  her  ;  the  door  was  distrustfully  bolted  on  the  inside.  After 
making  that  discovery,  she  went  round  to  the  back  of  the  house, 
and  ascertained  that  the  door  on  that  side  was  secured  in  the  same 


382  NO    NAME. 

manner.  "  Bolt  your  doors,  Mr.  Bygrave,  as  fast  as  you  like,"  said 
the  housekeeper,  stealing  back  again  to  the  Parade.  "You  can't 
bolt  the  entrance  to  your  servant's  pocket.  The  best  lock  you  have 
may  be  opened  by  a  golden  key." 

She  went  back  to  bed.  The  ceaseless  watching,  the  unrelaxing 
excitement  of  the  last  two  days,  had  worn  her  out. 

The  next  morning  she  rose  at  seven  o'clock.  In  half  an  hour 
more  she  saw  the  punctual  Mr.  Bygrave — as  she  had  seen  him  on 
many  previous  mornings  at  the  same  time — issue  from  the  gate  of 
North  Shingles,  with  his  towels  under  his  arm,  and  make  his  way 
to  a  boat  that  was  waiting  for  him  on  the  beach.  Swimming  was 
one  among  the  many  personal  accomplishments  of  which  the  captain 
was  master.  He  was  rowed  out  to  sea  every  morning,  and  took  his 
bath  luxuriously  in  the  deep  blue  water.  Mrs.  Lecount  had  already 
computed  the  time  consumed  in  this  recreation  by  her  watch,  and 
had  discovered  that  a  full  hour  usually  elapsed  from  the  moment 
when  he  embarked  on  the  beach  to  the  moment  when  he  returned. 

During  that  period  she  had  never  seen  any  other  inhabitant  of 
North  Shingles  leave  the  house.  The  servant  was  no  doubt  at  her 
work  in  the  kitchen ;  Mrs.  Bygrave  was  probably  still  in  her  bed ; 
and  Miss  Bygrave  (if  she  was  up  at  that  early  hour)  had  perhaps 
received  directions  not  to  venture  out  in  her  uncle's  absence.  The 
difficulty  of  meeting  the  obstacle  of  Magdalen's  presence  in  the 
house  had  been,  for  some  days  past,  the  one  difficulty  which  all  Mrs. 
Lecount's  ingenuity  had  thus  far  proved  unable  to  overcome. 

She  sat  at  the  window  for  a  quarter  of  an  hour  after  the  captain's 
boat  had  left  the  beach  with  her  mind  hard  at  work,  and  her  eyes 
fixed  mechanically  on  North  Shingles  —  she  sat  considering  what 
written  excuse  she  could  send  to  her  master  for  delaying  her  de- 
parture from  Aldborough  for  some  days  to  come — when  the  door  of 
the  house  she  was  watching  suddenly  opened,  and  Magdalen  herself 
appeared  in  the  garden.  There  was  no  mistaking  her  figure  and 
her  dress.  She  took  a  few  steps  hastily  toward  the  gate,  stopped 
and  pulled  down  the  veil  of  her  garden  hat  as  if  she  felt  the  clear 
morning  light  too  much  for  her,  then  hurried  out  on  the  Parade 
and  walked  away  northward,  in  such  haste,  or  in  such  pre-occupa- 
tion  of  mind,  that  she  went  through  the  garden  gate  without  closing 
it  after  her. 

Mrs.  Lecount  started  up  from  her  chair  with  a  moment's  doubt 
of  the  evidence  of  her  own  eyes.  Had  the  opportunity  which  she 
had  been  vainly  plotting  to  produce  actually  offered  itself  to  her  of 
its  own  accord  ?  Had  the  chances  declared  themselves  at  last  in 
her  favor,  after  steadily  acting  against  her  for  so  long  ?  There  was 
no  doubt  of  it :  in  the  popular  phrase,  "  her  luck  had  turned."  She 
snatched  up  her  bonnet  and  mantilla,  and  made  for  North  Shingles 


NO   NAME.  383 

without  an  instant's  hesitation.  Mr.  Bygrave  out  at  sea;  Miss  By- 
grave away  for  a  walk  ;  Mrs.  Bygrave  and  the  servant  both  at  home, 
and  both  easily  dealt  with — the  opportunity  was  not  to  be  lost; 
the  risk  was  well  worth  running ! 

This  time  the  house  door  was  easily  opened :  no  one  had  bolted 
it  again  after  Magdalen's  departure.  Mrs.  Lecount  closed  the  door 
softly,  listened  for  a  moment  in  the  passage,  and  heard  the  servant 
noisily  occupied  in  the  kitchen  with  her  pots  and  pans.  "  If  my 
lucky  star  leads  me  straight  into  Miss  Bygrave's  room,"  thought  the 
housekeeper,  stealing  noiselessly  up  the  stairs,  "  I  may  find  my  way 
to  her  wardrobe  without  disturbing  any  body." 

She  tried  the  door  nearest  to  the  front  of  the  house  on  the  right- 
hand  side  of  the  landing.  Capricious  chance  had  deserted  her  al- 
ready. The  lock  was  turned.  She  tried  the  door  opposite,  on  her 
left  hand.  The  boots  ranged  symmetrically  in  a  row,  and  the  razors 
on  the  dressing-table,  told  her  at  once  that  she  had  not  found  the 
right  room  yet.  She  returned  to  the  right-hand  side  of  the  land- 
ing, walked  down  a  little  passage  leading  to  the  back  of  the  house, 
and  tried  a  third  door.  The  door  opened,  and  the  two  opposite  ex- 
tremes of  female  humanity,  Mrs.  Wragge  and  Mrs.  Lecount,  stood 
face  to  face  in  an  instant ! 

"  I  beg  ten  thousand  pardons !"  said  Mrs.  Lecount,  with  the  most 
consummate  self-possession. 

"  Lord  bless  us  and  save  us !"  cried  Mrs.  Wragge,  with  the  most 
helpless  amazement. 

The  two  exclamations  were  uttered  in  a  moment,  and  in  that  mo- 
ment Mrs.  Lecount  took  the  measure  of  her  victim.  Nothing  of  the 
least  importance  escaped  her.  She  noticed  the  Oriental  Cashmere 
Robe  lying  half  made,  and  half  unpicked  again,  on  the  table ;  she 
noticed  the  imbecile  foot  of  Mrs.  Wragge  searching  blindly  in  the 
neighborhood  of  her  chair  for  a  lost  shoe  ;  she  noticed  that  there 
was  a  second  door  in  the  room  besides  the  door  by  which  she  had 
entered,  and  a  second  chair  within  easy  reach,  on  which  she  might 
do  well  to  seat  herself  in  a  friendly  and  confidential  way.  "  Pray 
don't  resent  my  intrusion,"  pleaded  Mrs.  Lecount,  taking  the  chair. 
"  Pray  allow  me  to  explain  myself!" 

Speaking  in  her  softest  voice,  surveying  Mrs.  Wragge  with  a  sweet 
smile  on  her  insinuating  lips,  and  a  melting  interest  in  her  hand- 
some black  eyes,  the  housekeeper  told  her  little  introductory  series 
of  falsehoods  with  an  artless  truthfulness  of  manner  which  the  Fa- 
ther of  Lies  himself  might  have  envied.  She  had  heard  from  Mr. 
Bygrave  that  Mrs.  Bygrave  was  a  great  invalid  ;  she  had  constantly 
reproached  herself,  in  her  idle  half-hours  at  Sea  View  (where  she 
libed  the  situation  of  Mr.  Noel  Vanstone's  housekeeper),  for  not  hav- 
ing offered  her  friendly  services  to  Mrs.  Bygrave ;  she  had  been  di- 


384  NO    NAME. 

rected  by  her  master  (doubtless  wed  known  to  Mrs.  Bygrave.  as  one 
of  her  husband's  friends,  and,  naturally,  one  of  her  charming  niece's 
admirers),  to  join  him  that  day  at  the  residence  to  which  he  had  re- 
moved from  Aldborough ;  she  was  obliged  to  leave  early,  but  she 
could  not  reconcile  it  to  her  conscience  to  go  without  calling  to 
apologize  for  her  apparent  want  of  neighborly  consideration ;  she 
had  found  nobody  in  the  house  ;  she  had  not  been  able  to  make  the 
servant  hear ;  she  had  presumed  (not  discovering  that  apartment 
down  stairs)  that  Mrs.  Bygrave's  boudoir  might  be  on  the  upper 
story  ;  she  had  thoughtlessly  committed  an  intrusion  of  which  she 
was  sincerely  ashamed,  and  she  could  now  only  trust  to  Mrs.  By- 
grave's  indulgence  to  excuse  and  forgive  her. 

A  less  elaborate  apology  might  have  served  Mrs.  Lecount's  pur- 
pose. As  soon  as  Mrs.  Wragge's  struggling  perceptions  had  grasp- 
ed the  fact  that  her  unexpected  visitor  was  a  neighbor  well  known 
to  her  by  repute,  her  whole  being  became  absorbed  in  admiration 
of  Mrs.  Lecount's  lady-like  manners,  and  Mrs.  Lecount's  perfectly- 
fitting  gown  !  "  What  a  noble  way  she  has  of  talking  !"  thought 
poor  Mrs.  Wragge,  as  the  housekeeper  reached  her  closing  sentence. 
"  And,  oh  my  heart  alive,  how  nicely  she's  dressed !" 

"  I  see  I  disturb  you,"  pursued  Mrs.  Lecount,  artfully  availing  her- 
self of  the  Oriental  Cashmere  Robe  as  a  means  ready  at  hand  of 
reaching  the  end  she  had  in  view — "  I  see  I  disturb  you,  ma'am, 
over  an  occupation  which,  I  know  by  experience,  requires  the  closest 
attention.  Dear,  dear  me,  you  are  unpicking  the  dress  again,  I  see, 
after  it  has  been  made !  This  is  my  own  experience  again,  Mrs.  By- 
grave.  Some  dresses  are  so  obstinate  !  Some  dresses  seem  to  say 
to  one,  in  so  many  words, '  No  !  you  may  do  what  you  like  with  me ; 
I  won't  fit!'" 

Mrs.  Wragge  was  greatly  struck  by  this  happy  remark.  She  burst 
out  laughing,  and  clapped  her  great  hands  in  hearty  approval. 

"  That's  what  this  gown  has  been  saying  to  me  ever  since  I  first 
put  the  scissors  into  it,"  she  exclaimed,  cheerfully.  "  I  know  I've 
got  an  awful  big  back,  but  that's  no  reason.  Why  should  a  gown 
be  weeks  on  hand,  and  then  not  meet  behind  you  after  all  ?  It 
hangs  over  my  Boasom  like  a  sack — it  does.  Look  here,  ma'am,  at 
the  skirt.  It  won't  come  right.  It  draggles  in  front,  and  cocks  up 
behind.  It  shows  my  heels — and,  Lord  knows,  I  get  into  scrapes 
enough  about  my  heels,  without  showing  them  into  the  bargain  !" 

"  May  I  ask  a  favor  ?"  inquired  Mrs.  Lecount,  confidentially. 
"  May  I  try,  Mrs.  By  grave,  if  I  can  make  my  experience  of  any  use 
to  you  ?  I  think  our  bosoms,  ma'am,  are  our  great  difficulty.  Now, 
this  bosom  of  yours  ?  —  Shall  I  say  in  plain  words  what  I  think  \ 
This  bosom  of  yours  is  an  Enormous  Mistake !" 

"  Don't  say  that !"  cried  Mrs.  Wragge,  imploringly.    "  Don't,  please, 


NO    NAME.  385 

there's  a  good  soul !  It's  an  awful  big  one,  I  know;  but  it's  mod- 
eled, for  all  that,  from  one  of  Magdalen's  own." 

She  was  far  too  deeply  interested  on  the  subject  of  the  dress  to 
notice  that  she  had  forgotten  herself  already,  and  that  she  had  re- 
ferred to  Magdalen  by  her  own  name.  Mrs.  Lecount's  sharp  ears  de- 
tected the  mistake  the  instant  it  was  committed.  "  So  !  so  !"  she 
thought.  "  One  discovery  already.  If  I  had  ever  doubted  my  own 
suspicions,  here  is  an  estimable  lady  who  would  now  have  set  me 
right. — I  beg  your  pardon,"  she  proceeded,  aloud,  "  did  you  say  this 
was  modeled  from  one  of  your  niece's  dresses?" 

"Yes,"  said  Mrs.  Wragge.     "It's  as  like  as  two  peas." 

"Then,"  replied  Mrs. Lecount,  adroitly,  "there  must  be  some  seri- 
ous mistake  in  the  making  of  your  niece's  dress.  Can  you  show  it 
to  me  ?" 

"  Bless  your  heart — yes !"  cried  Mrs.  Wragge.  "  Step  this  way, 
ma'am ;  and  bring  the  gown  along  with  you,  please.  It  keeps  slid- 
ing off,  out  of  pure  aggravation,  if  you  lay  it  out  on  the  table.  There's 
lots  of  room  on  the  bed  in  here." 

She  opened  the  door  of  communication,  and  led  the  way  eagerly 
into  Magdalen's  room.  As  Mrs.  Lecount  followed,  she  stole  a  look 
at  her  watch.  Never  before  had  time  flown  as  it  flew  that  morning ! 
In  twenty  minutes  more  Mr.  Bygrave  would  be  back  from  his  bath. 

"  There !"  said  Mrs.  Wragge,  throwing  open  the  wardrobe,  and 
taking  a  dress  down  from  one  of  the  pegs.  "  Look  there !  There's 
plaits  on  her  Boasom,  and  plaits  on  mine.  Six  of  one,  and  half  a 
dozen  of  the  other ;  and  mine  are  the  biggest — that's  all !" 

Mrs.  Lecount  shook  her  head  gravely,  and  entered  forthwith  into 
subtleties  of  disquisition  on  the  art  of  dress-making  which  had  the 
desired  effect  of  utterly  bewildering  the  proprietor  of  the  Oriental 
Cashmere  Robe  in  less  than  three  minutes. 

"  Don't !"  cried  Mrs.  Wragge,  imploringly.  "  Don't  go  on  like 
that !  I'm  miles  behind  you ;  and  my  head's  Buzzing  already.  Tell 
us,  like  a  good  soul,  what's  to  be  done.  You  said  something  about 
the  pattern  just  now.  Perhaps  I'm  too  big  for  the  pattern  ?  I  can't 
help  it  if  I  am.  Many's  the  good  cry  I  had,  when  I  was  a  growing 
girl,  over  my  own  size !  There's  half  too  much  of  me,  ma'am — meas- 
ure me  along  or  measure  me  across,  I  don't  deny  it — there's  half  too 
much  of  me  any  way." 

"  My  dear  madam,"  protested  Mrs.  Lecount,  "  you  do  yourself  a 
wrong !  Permit  me  to  assure  you  that  you  possess  a  commanding 
figure — a  figure  of  Minerva.  A  majestic  simplicity  in  the  form  of  a 
woman  imperatively  demands  a  majestic  simplicity  in  the  form  of 
that  woman's  dress.  The  laws  of  costume  are  classical ;  the  laws  of 
costume  must  not  be  trifled  with  !  Plaits  for  Venus,  puffs  for  Juno, 
folds  for  Minerva.     I  venture  to  suggest  a  total  change  of  pattern. 


386  NO    NAME. 

Your  niece  has  other  dresses  in  her  collection.  Why  may  we  not 
find  a  Minerva  pattern  among  them  f" 

As  she  said  those  words,  she  led  the  way  back  to  the  wardrobe. 

Mrs.  Wragge  followed,  and  took  the  dresses  out  one  by  one,  shak- 
ing her  head  despondently.  Silk  dresses  appeared,  muslin  dresses 
appeared.  The  one  dress  which  remained  invisible  was  the  dress 
of  which  Mrs.  Lecount  was  in  search. 

"  There's  the  lot  of  'em,"  said  Mrs.  Wragge.  "  They  may  do  for 
Venus  and  the  two  other  Ones  (I've  seen  'em  in  picters  without  a 
morsel  of  decent  linen  among  the  three),  but  they  won't  do  for  Me." 

"  Surely  there  is  another  dress  left  ?"  said  Mrs.  Lecount,  pointing 
to  the  wardrobe,  but  touching  nothing  in  it.  "  Surely  I  see  some- 
thing hanging  in  the  corner  behind  that  dark  shawl  ?" 

Mrs.  Wragge  removed  the  shawl ;  Mrs.  Lecount  opened  the  door 
of  the  wardrobe  a  little  wider.  There — hitched  carelessly  on  the  in- 
nermost peg — there,  with  its  white  spots,  and  its  double  flounce,  was 
the  brown  Alpaca  dress  ! 

The  suddenness  and  completeness  of  the  discovery  threw  the 
housekeeper,  practiced  dissembler  as  she  was,  completely  off  her 
guard.  She  started  at  the  sight  of  the  dress.  The  instant  after- 
ward her  eyes  turned  uneasily  toward  Mrs.  Wragge.  Had  the  start 
been  observed  ?  It  had  passed  entirely  unnoticed.  Mrs.  Wragge's 
whole  attention  was  fixed  on  the  Alpaca  dress:  she  was-  staring  at 
it  incomprehensibly,  with  an  expression  of  the  utmost  dismay. 

"  You  seem  alarmed,  ma'am,"  said  Mrs.  Lecount.  "  What  is  there 
in  the  wardrobe  to  frighten  you  ?" 

"  I'd  have  given  a  crown  -  piece  out  of  my  pocket,"  said  Mrs. 
Wragge,  "  not  to  have  set  my  eyes  on  that  gown.  It  had  gone  clean 
out  of  my  head,  and  now  it's  come  back  again.  Cover  it  up  !"  cried 
Mrs.  Wragge,  throwing  the  shawl  over  the  dress  in  a  sudden  fit  of 
desperation.  "  If  I  look  at  it  much  longer,  I  shall  think  I'm  back 
again  in  Vauxhall  Walk !" 

Vauxhall  Walk !  Those  two  words  told  Mrs.  Lecount  she  was 
on  the  brink  of  another  discovery.  She  stole  a  second  look  at  her 
watch.  There  was  barely  ten  minutes  to  spare  before  the  time  when 
Mr.  Bygrave  might  return ;  there  was  not  one  of  those  ten  minutes 
which  might  not  bring  his  niece  back  to  the  house.  Caution  coun- 
seled Mrs.  Lecount  to  go,  without  running  any  more  risks.  Curiosi- 
ty rooted  her  to  the  spot,  and  gave  the  courage  to  stay  at  all  hazards 
until  the  time  was  up.  Her  amiable  smile  began  to  harden  a  little 
as  she  probed  her  way  tenderly  into  Mrs.  Wragge's  feeble  mind. 

"  You  have  some  unpleasant  remembrances  of  Vauxhall  Walk  ?" 
she  said,  with  the  gentlest  possible  tone  of  inquiry  in  her  voice. 
"  Or  perhaps  I  should  say,  unpleasant  remembrances  of  that  dress 
belonging  to  your  niece  ?" 


NO    NAME.  387 

"The  last  time  I  saw  her  with  that  gown  on,"  said  Mrs.  Wragge, 
dropping  into  a  chair  and  beginning  to  tremble, "  was  the  time  when 
I  came  back  from  shopping,  and  saw  the  Ghost." 

"The  Ghost?"  repeated  Mrs.  Lecount,  clasping  her  hands  in 
graceful  astonishment.  "  Dear  madam,  pardon  me  !  Is  there  such 
a  thing  in  the  world  ?  Where  did  you  see  it  ?  In  Vauxhall  Walk  ? 
Tell  me — you  are  the  first  lady  I  ever  met  with  who  has  seen  a 
Ghost — pray  tell  me !" 

Flattered  by  the  position  of  importance  which  she  had  suddenly 
assumed  in  the  housekeeper's  eyes,  Mrs.  Wragge  entered  at  full 
length  into  the  narrative  of  her  supernatural  adventure.  The 
breathless  eagerness  with  which  Mrs.  Lecount  listened  to  her  de- 
scription of  the  spectre's  costume,  the  spectre's  hurry  on  the  stairs, 
and  the  spectre's  disappearance  in  the  bedroom ;  the  extraordinary 
interest  which  Mrs.  Lecount  displayed  on  hearing  that  the  dress  in 
the  wardrobe  was  the  very  dress  in  which  Magdalen  happened  to 
be  attired  at  the  awful  moment  when  the  ghost  vanished,  encour- 
aged Mrs.  Wragge  to  wade  deeper  and  deeper  into  details,  and  to 
involve  herself  in  a  confusion  of  collateral  circumstances  out  of 
which  there  seemed  to  be  no  prospect  of  her  emerging  for  hours  to 
come.  Faster  and  faster  the  inexorable  minutes  flew  by ;  nearer 
and  nearer  came  the  fatal  moment  of  Mr.  Bygrave's  return.  Mrs. 
Lecount  looked  at  her  watch  for  the  third  time,  without  an  attempt 
on  this  occasion  to  conceal  the  action  from  her  companion's  notice. 
There  were  literally  two  minutes  left  for  her  to  get  clear  of  North 
Shingles.  Two  minutes  would  be  enough,  if  no  accident  happened. 
She  had  discovered  the  Alpaca  dress ;  she  had  heard  the  whole 
story  of  the  adventure  in  Vauxhall  Walk ;  and,  more  than  that,  she 
had  even  informed  herself  of  the  number  of  the  house — which  Mrs. 
Wragge  happened  to  remember,  because  it  answered  to  the  number 
of  years  in  her  own  age.  All  that  was  necessary  to  her  master's 
complete  enlightenment  she  had  now  accomplished.  Even  if  there 
had  been  time  to  stay  longer,  there  was  nothing  worth  staying  for. 
" I'll  strike  this  worthy  idiot  dumb  with  a  coup  eP&at" thought  the 
housekeeper,  "  and  vanish  before  she  recovers  herself." 

"  Horrible !"  cried  Mrs.  Lecount,  interrupting  the  ghostly  narra- 
tive by  a  shrill  little  scream  and  making  for  the  door,  to  Mrs. 
Wragge's  unutterable  astonishment,  without  the  least  ceremony. 
"  You  freeze  the  very  marrow  of  my  bones.  Good-morning !"  She 
coolly  tossed  the  Oriental  Cashmere  Robe  into  Mrs.  Wragge's  ex- 
pansive lap,  and  left  the  room  in  an  instant. 

As  she  swiftly  descended  the  stairs,  she  heard  the  door  of  ihe 
bedroom  open. 

"  Where  are  your  manners  ?"  cried  a  voice  from  above,  hailing 
her  feebly  over  the  banisters.     "  What  do  you  mean  by  pitching 


388  NO    NAME. 

my  gown  at  me  in  that  way  ?  You  ought  to  be  ashamed  of  your- 
self!"  pursued  Mrs.  Wragge,  turning  from  a  lamb  to  a  lione.ss,  as 
she  gradually  realized  the  indignity  offered  to  the  Cashmere  Robe. 
"You  nasty  foreigner,  you  ought  to  be  ashamed  of  yourself!" 

Pursued  by  this  valedictory  address,  Mrs.  Lecount  reached  the 
house  door,  and  opened  it  without  interruption.  She  glided  rapid- 
ly along  the  garden  path,  passed  through  the  gate,  and  finding  her- 
self safe  on  the  Parade,  stopped,  and  looked  toward  the  sea. 

The  first  object  which  her  eyes  encountered  was  the  figure  of  Mr. 
Bygrave  standing  motionless  on  the  beach — a  petrified  bather,  with 
his  towels  in  his  hand !  One  glance  at  him  was  enough  to  show  that 
he  had  seen  the  housekeeper  passing  out  through  his  garden  gate. 

Rightly  conjecturing  that  Mr.  Bygrave's  first  impulse  would  lead 
him  to  make  instant  inquiries  in  his  own  house,  Mrs.  Lecount  pur- 
sued her  way  back  to  Sea  View  as  composedly  as  if  nothing  had 
happened.  When  she  entered  the  parlor  where  her  solitary  break- 
fast was  waiting  for  her,  she  was  surprised  to  see  a  letter  lying  on 
the  table.  She  approached  to  take  it  up  with  an  expression  of  im- 
patience, thinking  it  might  be  some  tradesman's  bill  which  she  had 
forgotten. 

It  was  the  forged  letter  from  Zurich. 


CHAPTER  XI. 

The  postmark  and  the  handwriting  on  the  address  (admirably 
imitated  from  the  original)  warned  Mrs.  Lecount  of  the  contents  of 
the  letter  before  she  opened  it. 

After  waiting  a  moment  to  compose  herself  she  read  the  an- 
nouncement of  her  brother's  relapse. 

There  was  nothing  in  the  handwriting,  there  was  no  expression 
in  any  part  of  the  letter,  which  could  suggest  to  her  mind  the  faint- 
est suspicion  of  foul  play.  Not  the  shadow  of  a  doubt  occurred  to 
her  that  the  summons  to  her  brother's  bedside  was  genuine.  The 
hand  that  held  the  letter  dropped  heavily  into  her  lap ;  she  became 
pale,  and  old,  and  haggard  in  a  moment.  Thoughts,  far  removed 
from  her  present  aims  and  interests ;  remembrances  that  carried  her 
back  to  other  lands  than  England,  to  other  times  than  the  time  of 
her  life  in  service,  prolonged  their  inner  shadows  to  the  surface,  and 
showed  the  traces  of  their  mysterious  passage  darkly  on  her  face. 
The  minutes  followed  each  other,  and  still  the  servant  below  stairs 
waited  vainly  for  the  parlor  bell.  The  minutes  followed  each  other, 
and  still  she  sat,  tearless  and  quiet,  dead  to  the  present  and  the 
future,  living  in  the  past. 


NO   NAME.  389 

The  entrance  of  the  servant,  uncalled,  roused  her.  With  a  heavy 
sigh,  the  cold  and  secret  woman  folded  the  letter  up  again  and  ad- 
dressed herself  to  the  interests  and  the  duties  of  the  passing  time. 

She  decided  the  question  of  going  or  not  going  to  Zurich,  after  a 
very  brief  consideration  of  it.  Before  she  had  drawn  her  chair  to 
the  breakfast-table,  she  had  resolved  to  go. 

Admirably  as  Captain  Wragge's  stratagem  had  worked,  it  might 
have  failed  —  unassisted  by  the  occurrence  of  the  morning  —  to 
achieve  this  result.  The  very  accident  against  which  it  had  been 
the  captain's  chief  anxiety  to  guard — the  accident  which  had  just 
taken  place  in  spite  of  him— was,  of  all  the  events  that  could  have 
happened,  the  one  event  which  falsified  every  previous  calculation, 
by  directly  forwarding  the  main  purpose  of  the  conspiracy  !  If 
Mrs.  Lecount  had  not  obtained  the  information  of  which  she  was 
in  search  before  the  receipt  of  the  letter  from  Zurich,  the  letter 
might  have1  addressed  her  in  vain.  She  would  have  hesitated  be- 
fore deciding  to  leave  England,  and  that  hesitation  might  have 
proved  fatal  to  the  captain's  scheme. 

As  it  was,  with  the  plain  proofs  in  her  possession,  with  the  gown 
discovered  in  Magdalen's  wardrobe,  with  the  piece  cut  out  of  it  in 
her  own  pocket-book,  and  with  the  knowledge,  obtained  from  Mrs. 
Wragge,  of  the  very  house  in  which  the  disguise  had  been  put  on, 
Mrs.  Lecount  had  now  at  her  command  the  means  of  warning  Noel 
Vanstone  as  she  had  never  been  able  to  warn  him  yet,  or,  in  other 
words,  the  means  of  guarding  against  any  dangerous  tendencies 
toward  reconciliation  with  the  Bygraves  which  might  otherwise 
have  entered  his  mind  during  her  absence  at  Ziirich.  The  only 
difficulty  which  now  perplexed  her  was  the  difficulty  of  deciding 
whether  she  should  communicate  with  her  master  personally  or  by 
writing,  before  her  departure  from  England. 

She  looked  again  at  the  doctor's  letter.  The  word  "  instantly," 
in  the  sentence  which  summoned  her  to  her  dying  brother,  was 
twice  underlined.  Admiral  Bartram's  house  was  at  some  distance 
from  the  railway ;  the  time  consumed  in  driving  to  St.  Crux,  and 
driving  back  again,  might  be  time  fatally  lost  on  the  journey  to 
Zurich.  Although  she  would  infinitely  have  preferred  a  personal 
interview  with  Noel  Vanstone,  there  was  no  choice  on  a  matter  of 
life  and  death  but  to  save  the  precious  hours  by  writing  to  him. 

After  sending  to  secure  a  place  at  once  in  the  early  coach,  she  sat 
down  to  write  to  her  master. 

Her  first  thought  was  to  tell  him  all  that  had  happened  at  North 
Shingles  that  morning.  On  reflection,  however,  she  rejected  the 
idea.  Once  already  (in  copying  the  personal  description  from  Miss 
Qarth's  letter)  she  had  trusted  her  weapons  in  her  master's  hands, 
and  Mr.  Bygrave  had  contrived  to  turn  them  against  her.     She  re- 


390  NO    NAME. 

solved  this  time  to  keep  them  strictly  in  her  own  possession.  The 
secret  of  the  missing  fragment  of  the  Alpaca  dress  was  known  to 
no  living  creature  but  herself;  and,  until  her  return  to  England,  she 
determined  to  keep  it  to  herself.  The  necessary  impression  might 
be  produced  on  Noel  Vanstone's  mind  without  venturing  into  de- 
tails. She  knew  by  experience  the  form  of  letter  which  might  be 
trusted  to  produce  an  effect  on  him,  and  she  now  wrote  it  in  these 
words : 

"  Dear  Mr.  Noel, — Sad  news  has  reached  me  from  Switzerland. 
My  beloved  brother  is  dying,  and  his  medical  attendant  summons 
me  instantly  to  Zurich.  The  serious  necessity  of  availing  myself  of 
the  earliest  means  of  conveyance  to  the  Continent  leaves  me  but  one 
alternative.  I  must  profit  by  the  permission  to  leave  England,  if 
necessary,  which  you  kindly  granted  to  me  at  the  beginning  of  my 
brother's  illness,  and  I  must  avoid  all  delay  by  going  straight  to 
London,  instead  of  turning  aside,  as  I  should  have  liked,  to  see  you 
first  at  St.  Crux. 

"Painfully  as  I  am  affected  by  the  family  calamity  which  has 
fallen  on  me,  I  can  not  let  this  opportunity  pass  without  adverting 
to  another  subject  which  seriously  concerns  your  welfare,  and  in 
which  (on  that  account)  your  old  housekeeper  feels  the  deepest 
interest. 

"  I  am  going  to  surprise  and  shock  you,  Mr.  Noel.  Pray  don't  be 
agitated  !  pray  compose  yourself ! 

"  The  impudent  attempt  to  cheat  you,  which  has  happily  opened 
your  eyes  to  the  true  character  of  our  neighbors  at  North  Shingles, 
was  not  the  only  object  which  Mr.  Bygrave  had  in  forcing  himself 
on  your  acquaintance.  The  infamous  conspiracy  with  which  you 
were  threatened  in  London  has  been  in  full  progress  against  you, 
under  Mr.  By  grave's  direction,  at  Aldborough.  Accident  —  I  will 
tell  you  what  accident  when  we  meet — has  put  me  in  possession  of 
information  precious  to  your  future  security.  I  have  discovered,  to 
an  absolute  certainty,  that  the  person  calling  herself  Miss  Bygrave 
is  no  other  than  the  woman  who  visited  us  in  disguise  at  Vauxhall 
Walk. 

"  I  suspected  this  from  the  first,  but  I  had  no  evidence  to  support 
my  suspicions;  I  had  no  means  of  combating  the  false  impression 
produced  on  you.  My  hands,  I  thank  Heaven,  are  tied  no  longer. 
I  possess  absolute  proof  of  the  assertion  that  I  have  just  made — 
proof  that  your  own  eyes  can  see — proof  that  would  satisfy  you,  if 
you  were  judge  in  a  Court  of  Justice. 

"Perhaps  even  yet,  Mr.  Noel,  you  will  refuse  to  believe  me?  Be 
it  so.  Believe  me  or  not,  I  have  one  last  favor  to  ask,  which  youi 
English  sense  of  fair  play  will  not  deny  me. 


NO   NAME.  391 

"  This  melancholy  journey  of  mine  will  keep  me  away  from  En- 
gland for  a  fortnight,  or,  at  most,  for  three  weeks.  You  will  oblige 
me — and  you  will  certainly  not  sacrifice  your  own  convenience  and 
pleasure — by  staying  through  that  interval  with  your  friends  at  St. 
Crux.  If,  before  my  return,  some  unexpected  circumstance  throws 
you  once  more  into  the  company  of  the  Bygraves,  and  if  your  natural 
kindness  of  heart  inclines  you  to  receive  the  excuses  which  they 
will,  in  that  case,  certainly  address  to  you,  place  one  trifling  restraint 
on  yourself,  for  your  own  sake,  if  not  for  mine.  Suspend  your  flirta- 
tion with  the  young  lady  (I  beg  pardon  of  all  other  young  ladies  for 
calling  her  so !)  until  my  return.  If,  when  I  come  back,  I  fail  to 
prove  to  you  that  Miss  Bygrave  is  the  woman  who  wore  that  dis- 
guise, and  used  those  threatening  words,  in  Vauxhall  Walk,  I  will 
engage  to  leave  your  service  at  a  clay's  notice ;  and  I  will  atone  for 
the  sin  of  bearing  false  witness  against  my  neighbor  by  resigning 
every  claim  I  have  to  your  grateful  remembrance,  on  your  father's 
account  as  well  as  on  your  own.  I  make  this  engagement  without 
reserves  of  any  kind;  and  I  promise  to  abide  by  it — if  my  proofs 
fail  —  on  the  faith  of  a  good  Catholic,  and  the  word  of  an  honest 
woman.     Your  faithful  servant,  Virgenie  Lecount." 

The  closing  sentences  of  this  letter  —  as  the  housekeeper  well 
knew  when  she  wrote  them  —  embodied  the  one  appeal  to  Noel 
Vanstone  which  could  be  certainly  trusted  to  produce  a  deep  and 
lasting  effect.  She  might  have  staked  her  oath,  her  life,  or  her 
reputation,  on  proving  the  assertion  which  she  had  made,  and  have 
failed  to  leave  a  permanent  impression  on  his  mind.  But  when  she 
staked  not  only  her  position  in  his  service,  but  her  pecuniary  claims 
on  him  as  well,  she  at  once  absorbed  the  ruling  passion  of  his  life 
in  expectation  of  the  result.  There  was  not  a  doubt  of  it,  in  the 
strongest  of  all  his  interests — the  interest  of  saving  his  money — he 
would  wait. 

"  Checkmate  for  Mr.  Bygrave !"  thought  Mrs.  Lecount,  as  she 
sealed  and  directed  the  letter.  "The  battle  is  over — the  game  is 
played  out." 

While  Mrs.  Lecount  was  providing  for  her  master's  future  securi- 
ty at  Sea  View,  events  were  in  full  progress  at  North  Shingles. 

As  soon  as  Captain  Wragge  recovered  his  astonishment  at  the 
housekeeper's  appearance  on  his  own  premises,  he  hurried  into  the 
house,  and,  guided  by  his  own  forebodings  of  the  disaster  that  had 
happened,  made  straight  for  his  wife's  room. 

Never,  in  all  her  former  experience,  had  poor  Mrs.  Wragge  felt 
the  full  weight  of  the  captain's  indignation  as  she  felt  it  now.  All 
the  little  intelligence  she  naturally  possessed  vanished  at  once  iu 


392  NO   NAME. 

the  whirlwind  of  her  husband's  rage.  The  only  plain  facts  which 
he  could  extract  from  her  were  two  in  number.  In  the  first  place, 
Magdalen's  rash  desertion  of  her  post  proved  to  have  no  better  rea- 
son to  excuse  it  than  Magdalen's  incorrigible  impatience :  she  had 
passed  a  sleepless  night ;  she  had  risen  feverish  and  wretched ;  and 
she  had  gone  out,  reckless  of  all  consequences,  to  cool  her  burn- 
ing head  in  the  fresh  air.  In  the  second  place,  Mrs.  Wragge  had, 
on  her  own  confession,  seen  Mrs.  Lecount,  had  talked  with  Mrs. 
Lecount,  and  had  ended  by  telling  Mrs.  Lecount  the  story  of  the 
ghost.  Having  made  these  discoveries,  Captain  Wragge  wasted 
no  time  in  contending  with  his  wife's  terror  and  contusion.  He 
withdrew  at  once  to  a  window  which  commanded  an  uninterrupted 
prospect  of  Noel  Vanstone's  house,  and  there  established  himself  on 
the  watch  for  events  at  Sea  View,  precisely  as  Mrs.  Lecount  had 
established  herself  on  the  watch  for  events  at  North  Shingles. 

Not  a  word  of  comment  on  the  disaster  of  the  morning  escaped 
him  when  Magdalen  returned  and  found  him  at  his  post.  His  flow 
of  language  seemed  at  last  to  have  run  dry.  "  I  told  you  what  Mrs. 
Wragge  would  do,"  he  said,  "  and  Mrs.  Wragge  has  done  it."  He 
sat  unflinchingly  at  the  window  with  a  patience  which  Mrs.  Lecount 
herself  could  not  have  surpassed.  The  one  active  proceeding  in 
which  he  seemed  to  think  it  necessary  to  engage  was  performed  by 
deputy.  He  sent  the  servant  to  the  inn  to  hire  a  chaise  and  a  fast 
horse,  and  to  say  that  he  would  call  himself  before  noon  that  day 
and  tell  the  hostler  when  the  vehicle  would  be  wanted.  Not  a  sign 
of  impatience  escaped  him  until  the  time  drew  near  for  the  depart- 
ure of  the  early  coach.  Then  the  captain's  curly  lips  began  to  twitch 
with  anxiety,  and  the  captain's  restless  fingers  beat  the  devil's  tattoo 
unremittingly  on  the  window-pane. 

The  coach  appeared  at  last,  and  drew  up  at  Sea  View.  In  a 
minute  more,  Captain  Wragge's  own  observation  informed  him  that 
one  among  the  passengers  who  left  Aldborough  that  morning  was 
—Mrs.  Lecount. 

The  main  uncertainty  disposed  of,  a  serious  question — suggested 
by  the  events  of  the  morning — still  remained  to  be  solved.  Which 
was  the  destined  end  of  Mrs.  Lecount's  journey — Zurich  or  St.  Crux  ? 
That  she  would  certainly  inform  her  master  of  Mrs.  Wragge's  ghost 
story,  and  of  every  other  disclosure  in  relation  to  names  and  places 
which  might  have  escaped  Mrs.  Wragge's  lips,  was  beyond  all  doubt. 
But  of  the  two  ways  at  her  disposal  of  doing  the  mischief — either 
personally  or  by  letter — it  was  vitally  important  to  the  captain  to 
know  which  she  had  chosen.  If  she  had  gone  to  the  admiral's,  no 
choice  would  be  left  him  but  to  follow  the  coach,  to  catch  the  train 
by  which  she  traveled,  and  to  outstrip  her  afterward  on  the  drive 
from  the  station  in  Essex  to  St.  Crux.     If,  on  the  contrary,  she  had 


NO   NAME.  393 

been  contented  with  writing  to  her  master,  it  would  only  be  neces- 
sary to  devise  measures  for  intercepting  the  letter.  The  captain  de- 
cided on  going  to  the  post-office,  in  the  first  place.  Assuming  that 
the  housekeeper  had  written,  she  would  not  have  left  the  letter  at 
the  mercy  of  the  servant — she  would  have  seen  it  safely  in  the  let- 
ter-box before  leaving  Aldborough. 

"  Good-morning,"  said  the  captain,  cheerfully  addressing  the  post- 
master. "  I  am  Mr.  Bygrave  of  North  Shingles.  I  think  you  have 
a  letter  in  the  box,  addressed  to  Mr. —  ?" 

The  postmaster  was  a  short  man,  and  consequently  a  man  with  a 
proper  idea  of  his  own  importance.  He  solemnly  checked  Captain 
Wragge  in  full  career. 

"  When  a  letter  is  once  posted,  sir,"  he  said, "  nobody  out  of  the 
office  has  any  business  with  it  until  it  reaches  its  address." 

The  captain  was  not  a  man  to  be  daunted,  even  by  a  postmas- 
ter. A  bright  idea  struck  him.  He  took  out  his  pocket-book,  in 
which  Admiral  Bartram's  address  was  written,  and  returned  to  the 
charge. 

"  Suppose  a  letter  has  been  wrongly  directed  by  mistake  ?"  he 
began.  And  suppose  the  writer  wants  to  correct  the  error  after  the 
Jetter  is  put  into  the  box  ?" 

"  When  a  letter  is  once  posted,  sir,"  reiterated  the  impenetrable 
local  authority,  "  nobody  out  of  the  office  touches  it  on  any  pretense 
whatever." 

"  Granted,  with  all  my  heart,"  persisted  the  captain.  "  I  don't 
want  to  touch  it — I  only  want  to  explain  myself.  A  lady  has  post- 
ed a  letter  here,  addressed  to  '  Noel  Vanstone,  Esq.,  Admiral  Bar- 
tram's,  St.  Crux-in-the-Marsh,  Essex.'  She  wrote  in  a  great  hurry, 
and  she  is  not  quite  certain  whether  she  added  the  name  of  the 
post-town,  'Ossory.'  It  is  of  the  last  importance  that  the  delivery 
of  the  letter  should  not  be  delayed.  What  is  to  hinder  your  facili- 
tating the  post-office  work,  and  obliging  a  lady,  by  adding  the  name 
of  the  post-town  (if  it  happens  to  be  left  out),  with  your  own  hand  ? 
I  put  it  to  you  as  a  zealous  officer,  what  possible  objection  can  there 
be  to  granting  my  request  ?" 

The  postmaster  was  compelled  to  acknowledge  that  there  could 
be  no  objection,  provided  nothing  but  a  necessary  line  was  added 
to  the  address,  provided  nobody  touched  the  letter  but  himself,  and 
provided  the  precious  time  of  the  post-office  was  not  suffered  to  run 
to  waste.  As  there  happened  to  be  nothing  particular  to  do  at  that 
moment,  he  would  readily  oblige  the  lady  at  Mr.  Bygrave's  request. 

Captain  Wragge  watched  the  postmaster's  hands,  as  they  sorted 
the  letters  in  the  box,  with  breathless  eagerness.  Was  the  letter 
there  ?  Would  the  hands  of  the  zealous  public  servant  suddenly 
stop  ?     Yes  !     They  stopped,  and  picked  out  a  letter  from  the  rest. 


394  NO   NAME. 

"  '  Noel  Vanstone,  Esquire,1  did  you  say  ?"  asked  the  postmaster, 
keeping  the  letter  in  his  own  hand. 

" '  Noel  Vanstone,  Esquire,'  "  replied  the  captain,  "  'Admiral  Bar- 
tram's,  St.  Crux-in-the-Marsh.' " 

"  Ossory,  Essex,"  chimed  in  the  postmaster,  throwing  the  letter 
back  into  the  box.  "  The  lady  has  made  no  mistake,  sir.  The  ad- 
dress is  quite  right." 

Nothing  but  a  timely  consideration  of  the  heavy  debt  he  owed 
to  appearances  prevented  Captain  Wragge  from  throwing  his  tall 
white  hat  up  into  the  air  as  soon  as  he  found  the  street  once  more. 
All  further  doubt  was  now  at  an  end.  Mrs.  Lecount  had  written  to 
her  master — therefore  Mrs.  Lecount  was  on  her  way  to  Zurich  ! 

With  his  head  higher  than  ever,  with  the  tails  of  his  respectable 
frock-coat  floating  behind  him  in  the  breeze,  with  his  bosom's  na- 
tive impudence  sitting  lightly  on  its  throne,  the  captain  strutted  to 
the  inn  and  called  for  the  railway  time-table.  After  making  cer- 
tain calculations  (in  black  and  white,  as  a  matter  of  course),  he  or- 
dered his  chaise  to  be  ready  in  an  hour — so  as  to  reach  the  rail- 
way in  time  for  the  second  train  running  to  London — with  which 
there  happened  to  be  no  communication  from  Aldborough  by 
coach. 

His  next  proceeding  was  of  a  far  more  serious  kind  ;  his  next  pro- 
ceeding implied  a  terrible  certainty  of  success.  The  day  of  the 
week  was  Thursday.  From  the  inn  he  went  to  the  church,  saw  the 
clerk,  and  gave  the  necessary  notice  for  a  marriage  by  license  on  the 
following  Monday. 

Bold  as  he  was,  his  nerves  were  a  little  shaken  by  this  last  achieve- 
ment ;  his  hand  trembled  as  it  lifted  the  latch  of  the  garden  gate. 
He  doctored  his  nerves  with  brandy-and-water  before  he  sent  for 
Magdalen  to  inform  her  of  the  proceedings  of  the  morning.  Anoth- 
er outbreak  might  reasonably  be  expected  when  she  heard  that  the 
last  irrevocable  step  had  been  taken,  and  that  notice  had  been  given 
of  the  wedding-day. 

The  captain's  watch  warned  him  to  lose  no  time  in  emptying  his 
glass.  In  a  few  minutes  he  sent  the  necessary  message  up  stairs. 
While  waiting  for  Magdalen's  appearance,  he  provided  himself  with 
certain  materials  which  were  now  necessary  to  carry  the  enterprise 
to  its  crowning  point.  In  the  first  place,  he  wrote  his  assumed 
name  (by  no  means  in  so  fine  a  hand  as  usual)  on  a  blank  visiting- 
card,  and  added  underneath  these  words :  "  Not  a  moment  is  to  be 
lost.  I  am  waiting  for  you  at  the  door — come  down  to  me  direct- 
ly." His  next  proceeding  was  to  take  some  half-dozen  envelopes 
out  of  the  case,  and  to  direct  them  all  alike  to  the  following  ad- 
dress :  "  Thomas  Bygrave,  Esq.,  Mussared's  Hotel,  Salisbury  Street, 
Strand,  London."     After  carefully  placing  the  envelopes  and  the 


"NOEL   VANSTONE,  ESQ.,  DID   YOU   SAT?" 


NO   NAME.  397 

card  in  his  breast-pocket,  he  shut  up  the  desk.  As  ho  rose  from 
the  writing-table,  Magdalen  came  into  the  room. 

The  captain  took  a  moment  to  decide  on  the  best  method  of 
opening  the  interview,  and  determined,  in  his  own  phrase,  to  dash 
at  it.  In  two  words  he  told  Magdalen  what  had  happened,  and  in- 
formed her  that  Monday  was  to  be  her  wedding-day. 

He  was  prepared  to  quiet  her,  if  she  burst  into  a  frenzy  of  passion ; 
to  reason  with  her,  if  she  begged  for  time  ;  to  sympathize  with  her, 
if  she  melted  into  tears.  To  his  inexpressible  surprise,  results  falsi- 
fied  all  his  calculations.  She  heard  him  without  uttering  a  word, 
without  shedding  a  tear.  When  he  had  done,  she  dropped  into  a 
chair.  Her  large  gray  eyes  stared  at  him  vacantly.  In  one  myste- 
rious instant  all  her  beauty  left  her ;  her  face  stiffened  awfully,  like 
the  face  of  a  corpse.  For  the  first  time  in  the  captain's  experience 
of  her,  fear — all-mastering  fear— had  taken  possession  of  her,  body 
and  soul. 

"  You  are  not  flinching,"  he  said,  trying  to  rouse  her.  "  Surely 
you  are  not  flinching  at  the  last  moment  ?" 

No  light  of  intelligence  came  into  her  eyes,  no  change  passed 
over  her  face.  But  she  heard  him — for  she  moved  a  little  in  the 
chair,  and  slowly  shook  her  head. 

"  You  planned  this  marriage  of  your  own  free-will,"  pursued  the 
captain,  with  the  furtive  look  and  the  faltering  voice  of  a  man  ill 
at  ease.  "  It  was  your  own  idea — not  mine.  I  won't  have  the  re- 
eponsibility  laid  on  my  shoulders — no !  not  for  twice  two  hundred 
pounds.     If  your  resolution  fails  you ;  if  you  think  better  of  it —  ?" 

He  stopped.  Her  face  was  changing ;  her  lips  were  moving  at 
last.  She  slowly  raised  her  left  hand,  with  the  fingers  outspread ; 
she  looked  at  it  as  if  it  was  a  hand  that  was  strange  to  her ;  she 
counted  the  days  on  it,  the  days  before  the  marriage. 

"Friday,  one,"  she  whispered  to  herself;  "  Saturday, two  ;  Sunday, 
three ;  Monday — "  Her  hands  dropped  into  her  lap,  her  face  stiff- 
ened again ;  the  deadly  fear  fastened  its  paralyzing  hold  on  her 
once  more,  and  the  next  words  died  away  on  her  lips. 

Captain  Wragge  took  out  his  handkerchief  and  wiped  his  fore- 
head. 

u  Damn  the  two  hundred  pounds !"  he  said.  "  Two  thousand 
wouldn't  pay  me  for  this !" 

He  put  the  handkerchief  back,  took  the  envelopes  which  he  had 
addressed  to  himself  out  of  his  pocket,  and,  approaching  her  closely 
for  the  first  time,  laid  his  hand  on  her  ami. 

"  Rouse  yourself,"  he  said,  "  I  have  a  last  word  to  say  to  you. 
Can  you  listen  ?" 

She  struggled,  and  roused  herself — a  faint  tinge  of  color  stole 
over  her  white  cheeks — she  bowed  her  head. 


398  NO   NAME. 

"  Look  at  these,"  pursued  Captain  Wragge,  holding  up  the  enve- 
lopes. "  If  I  turn  these  to  the  use  for  which  they  have  been  written, 
Mrs.  Lecount's  master  will  never  receive  Mrs.  Lecount's  letter.  If 
I  tear  them  up,  he  will  know  by  to-morrow's  post  that  you  are  the 
woman  who  visited  him  in  Vauxhall  Walk.  Say  the  word !  Shall 
I  tear  the  envelopes  up,  or  shall  I  put  them  back  in  my  pocket  ?" 

There  was  a  pause  of  dead  silence.  The  murmur  of  the  summer 
waves  on  the  shingle  of  the  beach  and  the  voices  of  the  summer 
idlers  on  the  Parade  floated  through  the  open  window,  and  filled 
the  empty  stillness  of  the  room. 

She  raised  her  head ;  she  lifted  her  hand  and  pointed  steadily  to 
the  envelopes. 

"  Put  them  back,"  she  said. 

"  Do  you  mean  it  ?"  he  asked. 

"  I  mean  it." 

As  she  gave  that  answer,  there  was  a  sound  of  wheels  on  the  road 
outside. 

"  You  hear  those  wheels  ?"  said  Captain  Wragge. 

"  I  hear  them." 

"  You  see  the  chaise  ?"  said  the  captain,  pointing  through  the 
window  as  the  chaise  which  had  been  ordered  from  the  inn  made 
its  appearance  at  the  garden  gate. 

"  I  see  it." 

"And,  of  your  own  free-will,  you  tell  me  to  go?" 

"  Yes.     Go  1" 

Without  another  word  he  left  her.  The  servant  was  waiting  at 
the  door  with  his  traveling-bag.  "  Miss  Bygrave  is  not  well,"  he 
said.     "  Tell  your  mistress  to  go  to  her  in  the  parlor." 

He  stepped  into  the  chaise,  and  started  on  the  first  stage  of  the 
journey  to  St.  Crux. 


CHAPTER  XII. 

Toward  three  o'clock  in  the  afternoon  Captain  Wragge  stopped 
at  the  nearest  station  to  Ossory  which  the  railway  passed  in  its 
course  through  Essex.  Inquiries  made  on  the  spot  informed  him 
that  he  might  drive  to  St.  Crux,  remain  there  for  a  quarter  of  an 
hour,  and  return  to  the  station  in  time  for  an  evening  train  to  Lon- 
don. In  ten  minutes  more  the  captain  was  on  the  road  again,  driv- 
ing rapidly  in  the  direction  of  the  coast. 

After  proceeding  some  miles  on  the  highway,  the  carriage  turned 
off,  and  the  coachman  involved  himself  in  an  intricate  net-work  of 
cross-roads, 


NO    NAME.  399 

"  Are  we  far  from  St.  Crux  ?"  asked  the  captain,  growing  impa- 
tient, after  mile  on  mile  had  been  passed  without  a  sign  of  reaching 
the  journey's  end. 

"  You'll  see  the  house,  sir,  at  the  next  turn  in  the  road,"  said  the 
man. 

The  next  turn  in  the  road  brought  them  within  view  of  the  open 
country  again.  Ahead  of  the  carriage,  Captain  Wragge  saw  a  long 
dark  line  against  the  sky — the  line  of  the  sea-wall  which  protects 
the  low  coast  of  Essex  from  inundation.  The  flat  intermediate 
country  was  intersected  by  a  labyrinth  of  tidal  streams,  winding  up 
from  the  invisible  sea  in  strange  fantastic  curves  —  rivers  at  high 
water,  and  channels  of  mud  at  low.  On  his  right  hand  was  a  quaint 
little  village,  mostly  composed  of  wooden  houses,  straggling  down 
to  the  brink  of  one  of  the  tidal  streams.  On  his  left  hand,  farther 
away,  rose  the  gloomy  ruins  of  an  abbey,  with  a  desolate  pile  of 
buildings,  which  covered  two  sides  of  a  square  attached  to  it.  One 
of  the  streams  from  the  sea  (called  in  Essex,  "  backwaters  ")  curled 
almost  entirely  round  the  house.  Another,  from  an  opposite  quar- 
ter, appeared  to  run  straight  through  the  grounds,  and  to  separate 
one  side  of  the  shapeless  mass  of  buildings,  which  was  in  moderate 
repair,  from  another,  which  was  little  better  than  a  ruin.  Bridges 
of  wood  and  bridges  of  brick  crossed  the  stream,  and  gave  access 
to  the  house  from  all  points  of  the  compass.  No  human  creature 
appeared  in  the  neighborhood,  and  no  sound  was  heard  but  the 
hoarse  barking  of  a  house-dog  from  an  invisible  court-yard. 

"  Which  door  shall  I  drive  to,  sir  ?"  asked  the  coachman.  "  The 
front  or  the  back  V 

"  The  back,"  said  Captain  Wragge,  feeling  that  the  less  notice  he 
attracted  in  his  present  position,  the  safer  that  position  might  be. 

The  carriage  twice  crossed  the  stream  before  the  coachman  made 
his  way  through  the  grounds  into  a  dreary  inclosure  of  stone.  At 
an  open  door  on  the  inhabited  side  of  the  place  sat  a  weather-beat- 
en old  man,  busily  at  work  on  a  half-finished  model  of  a  ship.  He 
rose  and  came  to  the  carriage  door,  lifting  up  his  spectacles  on  his 
forehead,  and  looking  disconcerted  at  the  appearance  of  a  stranger. 

"  Is  Mr.  Noel  Vanstone  staying  here  ?"  asked  Captain  Wragge. 

"Yes,  sir,"  replied  the  old  man.     "Mr.  Noel  came  yesterday." 

"  Take  that  card  to  Mr.  Vanstone,  if  you  please,"  said  the  captain, 
"  and  say  I  am  waiting  here  to  see  him." 

In  a  few  minutes  Noel  Vanstone  made  his  appearance,  breathless 
and  eager — absorbed  in  anxiety  for  news  from  Aldborough.  Cap- 
tain Wragge  opened  the  carriage  door,  seized  his  outstretched  hand, 
and  pulled  him  in  without  ceremony. 

"  Your  housekeeper  has  gone,"  whispered  the  captain,  "  and  you 
are  to  be  married  on  Monday,    Don't  agitate  yourself,  and  doft't  ex- 


400  NO    NAME. 

press  your  feelings — there  isn't  time  for  it.  Get  the  first  active  serv- 
ant you  can  find  in  the  house  to  pack  your  bag  in  ten  minutes,  take 
leave  of  the  admiral,  and  come  back  at  once  with  me  to  the  London 
train." 

Noel  Vanstone  faintly  attempted  to  ask  a  question.  The  captain 
declined  to  hear  it. 

"  As  much  talk  as  you  like  on  the  road,"  he  said.  "  Time  is  too 
precious  for  talking  here.  How  do  we  know  Lecount  may  not  think 
better  of  it  ?  How  do  we  know  she  may  not  turn  back  before  she 
gets  to  Zurich  ?" 

That  startling  consideration  terrified  Noel  Vanstone  into  instant 
submission. 

"  What  shall  I  say  to  the  admiral  ?"  he  asked,  helplessly. 

"  Tell  him  you  are  going  to  be  married,  to  be  sure  !  What  does 
it  matter,  now  Lecount's  back  is  turned?  If  he  wonders  you  didn't 
tell  him  before,  say  it's  a  runaway  match,  and  the  bride  is  waiting 
for  you.  Stop !  Any  letters  addressed  to  you  in  your  absence  will 
be  sent  to  this  place,  of  course  ?  Give  the  admiral  these  envelopes, 
and  tell  him  to  forward  your  letters  under  cover  to  me.  I  am  an 
old  customer  at  the  hotel  we  are  going  to ;  and  if  we  find  the  place 
full,  the  landlord  may  be  depended  on  to  take  care  of  any  letters 
with  my  name  on  them.  A  safe  address  in  London  for  your  corre- 
spondence may  be  of  the  greatest  importance.  How  do-  we  know 
Lecount  may  not  write  to  you  on  her  way  to  Zurich  V 

"  What  a  head  you  have  got !"  cried  Noel  Vanstone,  eagerly  tak- 
ing the  envelopes.     "  You  think  of  every  thing." 

He  left  the  carriage  in  high  excitement,  and  ran  back  into  the 
house.  In  ten  minutes  more  Captain  Wragge  had  him  in  safe  cus- 
tody, and  the  horses  started  on  their  return  journey. 

The  travelers  reached  London  in  good  time  that  evening,  and 
found  accommodation  at  the  hotel. 

Knowing  the  restless,  inquisitive  nature  of  the  man  he  had  to  deal 
with,  Captain  Wragge  had  anticipated  some  little  difficulty  and  em- 
barrassment in  meeting  the  questions  which  Noel  Vaustone  might 
put  to  him  on  the  way  to  London.  To  his  great  relief,  a  startling 
domestic  discovery  absorbed  his  traveling  companion's  whole  atten- 
tion at  the  outset  of  the  journey.  By  some  extraordinary  oversight, 
Miss  Bygrave  had  been  left,  on  the  eve  of  her  marriage,  unprovided 
with  a  maid.  Noel  Vanstone  declared  that  he  would  take  the  whole 
responsibility  of  correcting  this  deficiency  in  the  arrangements,  on 
his  own  shoulders ;  he  would  not  trouble  Mr.  Bygrave  to  give  him 
any  assistance ;  he  would  confer,  when  they  got  to  their  journey's 
end,  with  the  landlady  of  the  hotel,  and  would  examine  the  candi- 
dates for  the  vacant  office  himself.  All  the  way  to  London,  he  re- 
turned again  and  again  to  the  same  subject ;  all  the  evening,  at  the 


NO    NAME.  401 

hotel,  lie  was  in  and  out  of  the  landlady's  sitting-room,  until  ho  fair- 
ly obliged  her  to  lock  the  door.  In  every  other  proceeding  which 
related  to  his  marriage,  he  had  been  kept  in  the  background  ;  he 
had  been  compelled  to  follow  in  the  footsteps  of  his  ingenious  friend. 
In  the  matter  of  the  lady's  maid  he  claimed  his  fitting  position  at 
last — he  followed  nobody ;  he  took  the  lead  ! 

The  forenoon  of  the  next  day  was  devoted  to  obtaining  the  license 
— the  personal  distinction  of  making  the  declaration  on  oath  being 
eagerly  accepted  by  Noel  Vanstone,  who  swore,  in  perfect  good  faith 
(on  information  previously  obtained  from  the  captain),  that  the  lady 
was  of  age.  The  document  procured,  the  bridegroom  returned  to 
examine  the  characters  and  qualifications  of  the  women-servants  out 
of  the  place  whom  the  landlady  had  engaged  to  summon  to  the  ho- 
tel, while  Captain  Wragge  turned  his  steps,  "  on  business  personal  to 
himself,"  toward  the  residence  of  a  friend  in  a  distant  quarter  of 
London. 

The  captain's  friend  was  connected  with  the  law,  and  the  captain's 
business  was  of  a  twofold  nature.  His  first  object  was  to  inform 
himself  of  the  legal  bearings  of  the  approaching  marriage  on  the  fu- 
ture of  the  husband  and  the  wife.  His  second  object  was  to  pro- 
vide beforehand  for  destroying  all  traces  of  the  destination  to  which 
he  might  betake  himself  when  he  left  Aldborough  on  the  wedding- 
day.  Having  reached  his  end  successfully  in  both  these  cases,  he 
returned  to  the  hotel,  and  found  Noel  Vanstone  nursing  his  offended 
dignity  in  the  landlady's  sitting-room.  Three  ladies'  maids  had  ap- 
peared to  pass  their  examination,  and  had  all,  on  coming  to  the  ques- 
tion of  wages,  impudently  declined  accepting  the  place.  A  fourth 
candidate  was  expected  to  present  herself  on  the  next  day ;  and,  un- 
til she  made  her  appearance,  Noel  Vanstone  positively  declined  re- 
moving from  the  metropolis.  Captain  Wragge  showed  his  annoy- 
ance openly  at  the  unnecessary  delay  thus  occasioned  in  the  return 
to  Aldborough,  but  without  producing  any  effect.  Noel  Vanstone 
shook  his  obstinate  little  head,  and  solemnly  refused  to  trifle  with 
his  responsibilities. 

The  first  event  which  occurred  on  Saturday  morning  was  the  ar- 
rival of  Mrs.  Lecount's  letter  to  her  master,  inclosed  in  one  of  the 
envelopes  which  the  captain  had  addressed  to  himself.  He  received 
it  (by  previous  arrangement  with  the  waiter)  in  his  bedroom — read 
it  with  the  closest  attention — and  put  it  away  carefully  in  his  pock- 
et-book. The  letter  was  ominous  of  serious  events  to  come  when 
the  housekeeper  returned  to  England;  and  it  was  due  to  Magdalen 
— who  was  the  person  threatened — to  place  the  wTarning  of  danger 
in  her  own  possession. 

Later  in  the  day  the  fourth  candidate  appeared  for  the  maid's 
situation — a  young  woman  of  small  expectations  and  subdued  man- 


402  NO    NAME. 

ners,  who  looked  (as  the  landlady  remarked)  like  a  person  over- 
taken  by  misfortune.  She  passed  the  ordeal  of  examination  suc- 
cessfully, and  accepted  the  wages  offered  without  a  murmur.  The 
engagement  having  been  ratified  on  both  sides,  fresh  delays  ensued, 
of  which  Noel  Vanstone  was  once  more  the  cause.  He  had  not  yet 
made  up  his  mind  whether  he  would,  or  would  not,  give  more  than 
a  guinea  for  the  wedding-ring ;  and  he  wasted  the  rest  of  the  day 
to  such  disastrous  purpose  in  one  jeweler's  shop  after  another,  that 
he  and  the  captain,  and  the  new  lady's  maid  (who  traveled  with 
them),  were  barely  in  time  to  catch  the  last  train  from  London  that 
evening. 

It  was  late  at  night  when  they  left  the  railway  at  the  nearest  sta- 
tion to  Aldborough.  Captain  Wragge  had  been  strangely  silent  all 
through  the  journey.  His  mind  was  ill  at  ease.  He  had  left  Mag- 
dalen, under  very  critical  circumstances,  with  no  fit  person  to  con- 
trol her,  and  he  was  wholly  ignorant  of  the  progress  of  events  in 
his  absence  at  North  Shingles. 


CHAPTER  XIH. 

What  had  happened  at  Aldborough  in  Captain  Wragge's  ab- 
sence ? 

Events  had  occurred  which  the  captain's  utmost  dexterity  might 
have  found  it  hard  to  remedy. 

As  soon  as  the  chaise  had  left  North  Shingles,  Mrs.  Wragge  re- 
ceived the  message  which  her  husband  had  charged  the  servant  to 
deliver.  She  hastened  into  the  parlor,  bewildered  by  her  stormy 
interview  with  the  captain,  and  penitently  conscious  that  she  had 
done  wrong,  without  knowing  what  the  wrong  was.  If  Magdalen's 
mind  had  been  unoccupied  by  the  one  idea  of  the  marriage  which 
now  filled  it — if  she  had  possessed  composure  enough  to  listen  to 
Mrs.  Wragge's  rambling  narrative  of  what  had  happened  during  her 
interview  with  the  housekeeper — Mrs.  Lecount's  visit  to  the  ward- 
robe must,  sooner  or  later,  have  formed  part  of  the  disclosure  ;  and 
Magdalen,  although  she  might  never  have  guessed  the  truth,  must 
at  least  have  been  warned  that  there  was  some  element  of  danger 
lurking  treacherously  in  the  Alpaca  dress.  As  it  was,  no  such  con- 
sequence as  this  followed  Mrs.  Wragge's  appearance  in  the  parlor ; 
for  no  such  consequence  was  now  possible. 

Events  which  had  happened  earlier  in  the  morning,  events  which 
had  happened  for  days  and  weeks  past,  had  vanished  as  completely 
from  Magdalen's  mind  as  if  they  had  never  taken  place.  The  horror 
of  the  coming  Monday — the  merciless  certainty  implied  in  the  ap- 


NO    NAME.  403 

pointment  of  the  day  and  hour — petrified  all  feeling  in  her,  and  an. 
niliilated  all  thought.  Mrs.  Wragge  made  three  separate-  attempt)! 
to  enter  on  the  subject  of  the  housekeeper's  visit.  The  first  time 
she  might  as  well  have  addressed  herself  to  the  wind,  or  to  the  sea. 
The  second  attempt  seemed  likely  to  be  more  successful.  Magda- 
len sighed,  listened  for  a  moment  indifferently,  and  then  dismissed 
the  subject.  "  It  doesn't  matter,"  she  said.  "  The  end  has  come  all 
the  same.  I'm  not  angry  with  you.  Say  no  more."  Later  in  the 
day,  from  not  knowing  what  else  to  talk  about,  Mrs.  Wragge  tried 
again.  This  time  Magdalen  turned  on  her  impatiently.  "  For  God's 
sake,  don't  worry  me  about  trifles !  I  can't  bear  it."  Mrs.  Wragge 
closed  her  lips  on  the  spot,  and  returned  to  the  subject  no  more. 
Magdalen,  who  had  been  kind  to  her  at  all  other  times^  had  angrily 
forbidden  it.  The  captain — utterly  ignorant  of  Mrs.  Lecount's  in- 
terest in  the  secrets  of  the  wardrobe  —  had  never  so  much  as  ap- 
proached it.  All  the  information  that  he  had  extracted  from  his 
wife's  mental  confusion,  he  had  extracted  by  putting  direct  ques- 
tions, derived  purely  from  the  resources  of  his  own  knowledge.  He 
had  insisted  on  plain  answers,  without  excuses  of  any  kind ;  he  had 
carried  his  point  as  usual ;  and  his  departure  the  same  morning  had 
left  him  no  chance  of  re-opening  the  question,  even  if  his  irritation 
against  his  wife  had  permitted  him  to  do  so.  There  the  Alpaca 
dress  hung,  neglected  in  the  dark — the  unnoticed,  unsuspected  cen- 
tre of  dangers  that  were  still  to  come. 

Toward  the  afternoon  Mrs.  Wragge  took  courage  to  start  a  sug- 
gestion of  her  own — she  pleaded  for  a  little  turn  in  the  fresh  air. 

Magdalen  passively  put  on  her  hat ;  passively  accompanied  her 
companion  along  the  public  walk,  until  they  reached  its  northward 
extremity.  Here  the  beach  was  left  solitary,  and  here  they  sat  down, 
side  by  side,  on  the  shingle.  It  was  a  bright,  exhilarating  day; 
pleasure-boats  were  sailing  on  the  calm  blue  water;  Aldborough 
was  idling  happily  afloat  and  ashore.  Mrs.  Wragge  recovered  her 
spirits  in  the  gayety  of  the  prospect — she  amused  herself  like  a  child, 
by  tossing  pebbles  into  the  sea.  From  time  to  time  she  stole  a  ques- 
tioning glance  at  Magdalen,  and  saw  no  encouragement  in  her  man- 
ner, no  change  to  cordiality  in  her  face.  She  sat  silent  on  the  slope 
of  the  shingle,  with  her  elbow  on  her  knee,  and  her  head  resting  on 
her  hand,  looking  out  over  the  sea — looking  with  rapt  attention,  and 
yet  with  eyes  that  seemed  to  notice  nothing.  Mrs.  .fragge  wearied 
of  the  pebbles,  and  lost  her  interest  in  looking  at  the  pleasure-boats. 
Her  great  head  began  to  nod  heavily,  and  she  dozed  in  the  warm, 
drowsy  air.  When  she  woke,  the  pleasure-boats  were  far  off;  their 
sails  were  white  specks  in  the  distance.  The  idlers  on  the  beach 
were  thinned  in  number ;  the  sun  was  low  in  the  heaven ;  the  blue 
sea  was  darker,  and  rippled  by  a  breeze,    Changes  on.  sky  and  earth 


404  NO    NAME. 

and  ocean  told  of  the  waning  day ;  change  was  everywhere — except 
close  at  her  side.  There  Magdalen  sat,  in  the  same  position,  with 
weary  eyes  that  still  looked  over  the  sea,  and  still  saw  nothing. 

"  Oh,  do  speak  to  me  I"  said  Mrs.  Wragge. 

Magdalen  started,  and  looked  about  her  vacantly. 

"  It's  late,"  she  said,  shivering  under  the  first  sensation  that  reach- 
ed her  of  the  rising  breeze.     "  Come  home ;  you  want  your  tea." 

They  walked  home  in  silence. 

"Don't  be  angry  with  me  for  asking,"  said  Mrs.  Wragge,  as  they 
sat  together  at  the  tea-table.  "  Are  you  troubled,  my  dear,  in  your 
mind  ?" 

"  Yes,"  replied  Magdalen.  "  Don't  notice  me.  My  trouble  will 
soon  be  over." 

She  waited  patiently  until  Mrs.  Wragge  had  made  an  end  of  the 
meal,  and  then  went  up  stairs  to  her  own  room. 

"  Monday  !"  she  said,  as  she  sat  down  at  her  toilet-table.  "  Some- 
thing may  happen  before  Monday  comes  !" 

Her  fingers  wandered  mechanically  among  the  brushes  and  combs, 
the  tiny  bottles  and  cases  placed  on  the  table.  She  set  them  in  or- 
der, now  in  one  way,  and  now  in  another — then  on  a  sudden  pushed 
them  away  from  her  in  a  heap.  For  a  minute  or  two  her  hands  re- 
mained idle.  That  interval  passed,  they  grew  restless  again,  and 
pulled  the  two  little  drawers-backward  and  forward  in  their  grooves. 
Among  the  objects  laid  in  one  of  them  was  a  Prayer-book  which  had 
belonged  to  her  at  Combe-Raven,  and  which  she  had  saved  with  her 
other  relics  of  the  past,  when  she  and  her  sister  had  taken  their  fare- 
well of  home.  She  opened  the  Prayer-book,  after  a  long  hesitation, 
at  the  Marriage  Service,  shut  it  again  before  she  had  read  a  line,  and 
put  it  back  hurriedly  in  one  of  the  drawers.  After  turning  the  key 
in  the  locks,  she  rose  and  walked  to  the  window. 

"  The  horrible  sea !"  she  said,  turning  from  it  with  a  shudder  of 
disgust — "  the  lonely,  dreary,  horrible  sea  !" 

She  went  back  to  the  drawer,  and  took  the  Prayer-book  out  for 
the  second  time,  half  opened  it  again  at  the  Marriage  Service,  and 
impatiently  threw  it  back  into  the  drawer.  This  time,  after  turning 
the  lock,  she  took  the  key  away,  walked  with  it  in  her  hand  to  the 
open  window,  and  threw  it  violently  from  her  into  the  garden.  It 
fell  on  a  bed  thickly  planted  with  flowers.  It  was  invisible ;  it  was 
lost.     The  sense  of  its  loss  seemed  to  relieve  her. 

"  Something  may  happen  on  Friday ;  something  may  happen  on 
Saturday ;  something  may  happen  on  Sunday.     Three  days  still !" 

She  closed  the  green  shutters  outside  the  window  and  drew  the 
curtains,  to  darken  the  room  still  more.  Her  head  felt  heavy ;  her 
eyes  were  burning  hot.  She  threw  herself  on  her  bed,  with  a  sullen 
impulse  to  sleep  away  the  time. 


NO    NAME.  405 

The  quiet  of  the  house  helped  her ;  the  darkness  of  the  room 
helped  her;  the  stupor  of  mind  into  which  she  had  fallen  had  its  ef- 
fect on  her  senses ;  she  dropped  into  a  broken  sleep.  Her  restless 
hands  moved  incessantly,  her  head  tossed  from  side  to  side  of  the 
pillow,  but  still  she  slept.  Ere  long  words  fell  by  ones  and  twos 
from  her  lips ;  words  whispered  in  her  sleep,  growing  more  and 
more  continuous,  more  and  more  articulate,  the  longer  the  sleep 
lasted — words  which  seemed  to  calm  her  restlessness,  and  to  hush 
her  into  deeper  repose.  She  smiled ;  she  was  in  the  happy  land  of 
dreams  ;  Frank's  name  escaped  her.  "  Do  you  love  me,  Frank  ?"  she 
whispered.     "  Oh,  my  darling,  say  it  again  !  say  it  again  !" 

The  time  passed,  the  room  grew  darker ;  and  still  she  slumbered 
and  dreamed.  Toward  sunset — without  any  noise  inside  the  house 
or  out  to  account  for  it — she  started  up  on  the  bed,  awake  again  in 
an  instant.  The  drowsy  obscurity  of  the  room  struck  her  with  ter- 
ror. She  ran  to  the  window,  pushed  open  the  shutters,  and  leaned 
far  out  into  the  evening  air  and  the  evening  light.  Her  eyes  de- 
voured the  trivial  sights  on  the  beach ;  her  ears  drank  in  the  wel- 
come murmur  of  the  sea.  Any  thing  to  deliver  her  from  the  waking 
impression  which  her  dreams  had  left !  No  more  darkness,  no  more 
repose.  Sleep  that  came  mercifully  to  others  came  treacherously  to 
her.  Sleep  had  only  closed  her  eyes  on  the  future,  to  open  them  on 
the  past. 

She  went  down  again  into  the  parlor,  eager  to  talk — no  matter 
how  idly,  no  matter  on  what  trifles.  The  room  was  empty.  Per- 
haps Mrs.  Wragge  had  gone  to  her  work — perhaps  she  was  too  tired 
to  talk.  Magdalen  took  her  hat  from  the  table  and  went  out.  The 
sea  that  she  had  shrunk  from,  a  few  hours  since,  looked  friendly 
now.  How  lovely  it  was  in  its  cool  evening  blue !  What  a  god- 
like joy  in  the  happy  multitude  of  waves  leaping  up  to  the  light  of 
Heaven ! 

She  staid  out  until  the  night  fell,  and  the  stars  appeared.  The 
night  steadied  her. 

By  slow  degrees  her  mind  recovered  its  balance,  and  she  looked 
her  position  unflinchingly  in  the  face.  The  vain  hope  that  accident 
might  defeat  the  very  end  for  which,  of  her  own  free-will,  she  had 
ceaselessly  plotted  and  toiled,  vanished  and  left  her ;  self-dissipated 
in  its  own  weakness.  She  knew  the  time  alternative,  and  faced  it. 
On  one  side  was  the  revolting  ordeal  of  the  marriage  ;  on  the  other, 
the  abandonment  of  her  purpose.  Was  it  too  late  to  choose  between 
the  sacrifice  of  the  purpose  and  the  sacrifice  of  herself?  Yes!  too 
late.  The  backward  path  had  closed  behind  her.  Time  that  no 
wish  could  change,  Time  that  no  prayers  could  recall,  had  made  her 
purpose  a  part  of  herself:  once  she  had  governed  it ;  now  it  gov- 
erned her.     The  more  she   shrank,  the  harder  she  struggled,  the 


406  NO   NAME. 

more  mercilessly  it  drove  her  on.  No  other  feeling  in  her  was 
strong  enough  to  master  it — not  even  the  horror  that  was  madden- 
ing her — the  horror  of  her  marriage. 

Toward  nine  o'clock  she  went  back  to  the  house. 

"  Walking  again  !"  said  Mrs.  Wragge,  meeting  her  at  the  door. 
"Come  in  and  sit  down,  my  dear.     How  tired  you  must  be !" 

Magdalen  smiled,  and  patted  Mrs.  Wragge  kindly  on  the  shoulder. 

"  You  forget  how  strong  I  am,"  she  said.     "  Nothing  hurts  me." 

She  lit  her  candle,  and  went  up  stairs  again  into  her  room.  As 
she  returned  to  the  old  place  by  her  toilet-table,  the  vain  hope  in  the 
three  days  of  delay,  the  vain  hope  of  deliverance  by  accident,  came 
back  to  her — this  time  in  a  form  more  tangible  than  the  form  which 
it  had  hitherto  worn. 

"Friday,  Saturday,  Sunday.  Something  may  happen  to  him; 
something  may  happen  to  me.  Something  serious ;  something  fatal. 
One  of  us  may  die." 

A  sudden  change  came  over  her  face.  She  shivered,  though  there 
was  no  cold  in  the  air.  She  started,  though  there  was  no  noise  to 
alarm  her. 

"  One  of  us  may  die.     I  may  be  the  one." 

She  fell  into  deep  thought,  roused  herself  after  a  while,  and,  open- 
ing the  door,  called  to  Mrs.  Wragge  to  come  and  speak  to  her. 

"  You  were  right  in  thinking  I  should  fatigue  myself,"  she  said. 
"  My  walk  has  been  a  little  too  much  for  me.  I  feel  tired,  and  I  am 
going  to  bed.  Good-night."  She  kissed  Mrs.  Wragge,  and  softly 
closed  the  door  again. 

After  a  few  turns  backward  and  forward  in  the  room,  she  abrupt- 
ly opened  her  writing-case  and  begcn  a  letter  to  her  sister.  The 
letter  grew  and  grew  under  her  hands ;  she  filled  sheet  after  sheet 
of  note-paper.  Her  heart  was  full  of  her  subject :  it  was  her  own 
story  addressed  to  Norah.  She  shed  no  tears,  she  was  composed  to 
a  quiet  sadness.  Her  pen  ran  smoothly  on.  After  writing  for  more 
than  two  hours,  she  left  off  while  the  letter  was  still  unfinished. 
There  was  no  signature  attached  to  it — there  was  a  blank  space  re- 
served, to  be  filled  up  at  some  other  time.  After  putting  away  the 
case,  with  the  sheets  of  writing  secured  inside  it,  she  walked  to  the 
window  for  air,  and  stood  there  looking  out. 

The  moon  was  waning  over  the  sea.  The  breeze  of  the  earlier 
hours  had  died  out.  On  earth  and  ocean,  the  spirit  of  the  Night 
brooded  in  a  deep  and  awful  calm. 

Her  head  drooped  low  on  her  bosom,  and  all  the  view  waned 
before  her  eyes  with  the  waning  moon.  She  saw  no  sea,  no  sky. 
Death,  the  Tempter,  was  busy  at  her  heart.  Death,  the  Tempter, 
pointed  homeward,  to  the  grave  of  her  dead  parents  in  Combe- 
Rayen  church-yard. 


NO    NAME.  407 

"  Nineteen  last  birthday,"  she  thought.  "  Only  nineteen  !"  She 
moved  away  from  the  window,  hesitated,  and  then  looked  out  again 
at  the  view.  "  The  beautiful  night !"  she  said,  gratefully.  "  Oh, 
the  beautiful  night !" 

She  left  the  window,  and  lay  down  on  her  bed.  Sleep,  that  had  come 
treacherously  before,  came  mercifully  now ;  came  deep  and  dreamless, 
the  image  of  her  last  waking  thought — the  image  of  Death. 

Early  the  next  morning,  Mrs.  Wragge  went  into  Magdalen's  room, 
and  found  that  she  had  risen  betimes.  She  was  sitting  before  the 
glass,  drawing  the  comb  slowly  through  and  through  her  hair — 
thoughtful  and  quiet. 

"  How  do  you  feel  this  morning,  my  dear  ?"  asked  Mrs.  Wragge. 
"  Quite  well  again  ?" 

"  Yes." 

After  replying  in  the  affirmative,  she  stopped,  considered  for  a 
moment,  and  suddenly  contradicted  herself.  "  No,"  she  said,  "  not 
quite  well.  I  am  suffering  a  little  from  toothache."  As  she  altered 
her  first  answer  in  those  words,  she  gave  a  twist  to  her  hair  with  the 
comb,  so  that  it  fell  forward  and  hid  her  face. 

At  breakfast  she  was  very  silent,  and  she  took  nothing  but  a  cup 
of  tea. 

"  Let  me  go  to  the  chemist's  and  get  something,"  said  Mrs. 
Wragge. 

"  No,  thank  you." 

"  Do  let  me  !" 
"  No  JH 

She  refused  for  the  second  time,  sharply  and  angrily.  As  usual, 
Mrs.  Wragge  submitted,  and  let  her  have  her  own  way.  When 
breakfast  was  over,  she  rose,  without  a  word  of  explanation,  and 
went  out.  Mrs.  Wragge  watched  her  from  the  window,  and  saw 
that  she  took  the  direction  of  the  chemist's  shop. 

On  reaching  the  chemist's  door,  she  stopped — paused  before  en- 
tering the  shop,  and  looked  in  at  the  window— hesitated,  and  walk- 
ed away  a  little — hesitated  again,  and  took  the  first  turning  which 
led  back  to  the  beach. 

Without  looking  about  her,  without  caring  what  place  she  chose, 
she  seated  herself  on  the  shingle.  The  only  persons  who  were  near 
to  her,  in  the  position  she  now  occupied,  were  a  nurse-maid  and 
two  little  boys.  The  youngest  of  the  two  had  a  tiny  toy-ship  in 
his  hand.  After  looking  at  Magdalen  for  a  little  while  with  thp 
quaintest  gravity  and  attention,  the  boy  suddenly  approached  her, 
and  opened  the  way  to  an  acquaintance  by  putting  his  toy  com- 
posedly on  her  lap. 

"  Look  at  my  ship,"  said  the  child,  crossing  his  hands  on  Mag- 
dalen's knee. 


408  NO    NAME. 

She  was  not  usually  patient  with  children.  In  happier  days  she 
would  not  have  met  the  boy's  advance  toward  her  as  she  met  it 
now.  The  hard  despair  in  her  eyes  left  them  suddenly  ;  her  fast- 
closed  lips  parted,  and  trembled.  She  put  the  ship  back  into  the 
child's  hands,  and  lifted  him  on  her  lap. 

"  Will  you  give  me  a  kiss  ?"  she  said,  faintly. 

The  boy  looked  at  his  ship,  as  if  he  would  rather  have  kissed 
the  ship. 

She  repeated  the  question  —  repeated  it,  almost  humbly.  The 
child  put  his  hand  up  to  her  neck  and  kissed  her. 

"  If  I  was  your  sister,  would  you  love  me  ?" 

All  the  misery  of  her  friendless  position,  all  the  wasted  tenderness 
of  her  heart,  poured  from  her  in  those  words. 

"  Would  you  love  me  ?"  she  repeated,  hiding  her  face  on  the  bo- 
som of  the  child's  frock. 

"  Yes,"  said  the  boy.     "  Look  at  my  ship." 

She  looked  at  the  ship  through  her  gathering  tears. 

"  What  do  you  call  it  ?"  she  asked,  trying  hard  to  find  her  way 
even  to  the  interest  of  a  child. 

"  I  call  it  Uncle  Kirke's  ship,"  said  the  boy.  "  Uncle  Kirke  has 
gone  away." 

The  name  recalled  nothing  to  her  memory.  No  remembrances 
but  old  remembrances  lived  in  her  now.  "  Gone  ?"  she  "repeated 
absently,  thinking  what  she  should  say  to  her  little  friend  next. 

"  Yes,"  said  the  boy.     "  Gone  to  China." 

Even  from  the  lips  of  a  child,  that  word  struck  her  to  the  heart. 
She  put  Kirke's  little  nephew  off  her  lap,  and  instantly  left  the 
beach. 

As  she  turned  back  to  the  house,  the  struggle  of  the  past  night 
renewed  itself  in  her  mind.  But  the  sense  of  relief  which  the  child 
had  brought  to  her,  the  reviving  tenderness  which  she  had  felt 
while  he  sat  on  her  knee,  influenced  her  still.  She  was  conscious 
of  a  dawning  hope,  opening  freshly  on  her  thoughts,  as  the  boy's 
innocent  eyes  had  opened  on  her  face  when  he  came  to  her  on  the 
beach.  Was  it  too  late  to  turn  back  ?  Once  more  she  asked  her- 
self that  question,  and  now,  for  the  first  time,  she  asked  it  in  doubt. 

She  ran  up  to  her  own  room  with  a  lurking  distrust  in  her 
changed  self  which  warned  her  to  act,  and  not  to  think.  Without 
waiting  to  remove  her  shawl  or  to  take  off  her  hat,  she  opened  her 
writing-case,  and  addressed  these  lines  to  Captain  Wragge  as  fast 
as  her  pen  could  trace  them. 

"You  will  find  the  money  I  promised  you  inclosed  in  this.  My 
resolution  has  failed  me.  The  honor  of  marrying  him  is  more  than 
I  can  face.  I  have  left  Aldborough.  Pity  my  weakness,  and  forget 
me.     Let  us  never  meet  again." 


NO   NAME.  40<» 

With  throbbing  heart,  with  eager,  trembling  fingers,  she  drew 
her  little  white  silk  bag  from  her  bosom  and  took  out  the  hank- 
notes  to  inclose  them  in  the  letter.  Her  hand  searched  impetuous- 
ly; her  hand  had  lost  its  discrimination  of  touch.  She  grasped  the 
whole  contents  of  the  bag  in  one  handful  of  papers,  and  drew  them 
out  violently,  tearing  some  and  disarranging  the  folds  of  others. 
As  she  threw  them  down  before  her  on  the  table,  the  first  object 
that  met  her  eye  was  her  own  handwriting,  faded  already  with  time. 
She  looked  closer,  and  saw  the  words  she  had  copied  from  her  dead 
father's  letter — saw  the  lawyer's  brief  and  terrible  commentary  on 
them  confronting  her  at  the  bottom  of  the  page : 

Mr.  Veinstone's  daughters  are  Nobody's  Children,  and  the  law  leaves 
them  helpless  at  their  uncle's  mercy. 

Her  throbbing  heart  stopped;  her  trembling  hands  grew  icily 
quiet.  All  the  Past  rose  before  her  in  mute,  overwhelming  re- 
proach. She  took  up  the  lines  which  her  own  hand  had  written 
hardly  a  minute  since,  and  looked  at  the  ink,  still  wet  on  the  let- 
ters, with  a  vacant  incredulity. 

The  color  that  had  risen  on  her  cheeks  faded  from  them  once 
more.  The  hard  despair  looked  out  again,  cold  and  glittering,  in 
her  tearless  eyes.  She  folded  the  bank-notes  carefully,  and  put 
them  back  in  her  bag.  She  pressed  the  copy  of  her  father's  letter 
to  her  lips,  and  returned  it  to  its  place  with  the  bank-notes.  When 
the  bag  was  in  her  bosom  again,  she  waited  a  little,  with  her  face 
hidden  in  her  hands,  then  deliberately  tore  up  the  lines  addressed 
to  Captain  Wragge.  Before  the  ink  was  dry,  the  letter  lay  in  frag- 
ments on  the  floor. 

"  No  !"  she  said,  as  the  last  morsel  of  the  torn  paper  dropped  from 
her  hand.     "  On  the  way  I  go,  there  is  no  turning  back." 

She  rose  composedly,  and  left  the  room.  While  descending  the 
stairs,  she  met  Mrs.  Wragge  coming  up.  "  Going  out  again,  my 
dear  ?"  asked  Mrs.  Wragge.     "  May  I  go  wTith  you  ?" 

Magdalen's  attention  wandered.  Instead  of  answering  the  ques- 
tion, she  absently  answered  her  own  thoughts. 

"  Thousands  of  women  marry  for  money,"  she  said.  "  Why 
shouldn't  I  ?" 

The  helpless  perplexity  of  Mrs.  Wragge's  face,  as  she  spoke  those 
wTords,  roused  her  to  a  sense  of  present  things. 

"  My  poor  dear  I"  she  said  ;  "  I  puzzle  you,  don't  I  ?  Never  mind 
what  I  say — all  girls  talk  nonsense,  and  I'm  no  better  than  the  rest 
of  them.  Come !  I'll  give  you  a  treat.  You  shall  enjoy  yourself 
while  the  captain  is  away.  We  will  have  a  long  drive  by  ourselves. 
Put  on  your  smart  bonnet,  and  come  with  me  to  the  hotel.  I'll  tell 
the  landlady  to  put  a  nice  cold  dinner  into  a  basket.  You  shall 
have  all  the  things  you  like,  and  I'll  wait  on  you.     When  you  are 


410  NO   NAME. 

an  old,  dd  woman,  you  will  remember  me  kindly,  won't  you  ?  You 
will  say, '  She  wasn't  a  bad  girl ;  hundreds  worse  than  she  was  live  and 
prosper,  and  nobody  blames  them.'  There  !  there  !  go  and  put  your 
bonnet  on.  Oh,  my  God,  what  is  my  heart  made  of !  How  it  lives  and 
lives,  when  other  girls'  hearts  wrould  have  died  in  them  long  ago !" 

In  half  an  hour  more  she  and  Mrs.  Wragge  wrere  seated  together 
in  the  carriage.  One  of  the  horses  was  restive  at  starting.  "  Flog 
him,"  she  cried  angrily  to  the  driver.  "What  are  you  frightened 
about  ?  Flog  him  !  Suppose  the  carriage  was  upset,"  she  said, 
turning  suddenly  to  her  companion ;  "  and  suppose  I  was  thrown 
out  and  killed  on  the  spot  ?  Nonsense !  don't  look  at  me  in  that 
way.  I'm  like  your  husband  ;  I  have  a  dash  of  humor,  and  I'm 
only  joking." 

They  were  out  the  whole  day.  When  they  reached  home  again, 
it  was  after  dark.  The  long  succession  of  hours  passed  in  the  fresh 
air  left  them  both  with  the  same  sense  of  fatigue.  Again  that  night 
Magdalen  slept  the  deep  dreamless  sleep  of  the  night  before.  And 
so  the  Friday  closed. 

Her  last  thought  at  night  had  been  the  thought  which  had  sus- 
tained her  throughout  the  day.  She  had  laid  her  head  on  the  pil- 
low, with  the  same  reckless  resolution  to  submit  to  the  coming  trial, 
which  had  already  expressed  itself  in  words  when  she  and  Mrs. 
Wragge  met  by  accident  on  the  stairs.  When  she  woke  on  the 
morning  of  Saturday,  the  resolution  was  gone.  The  Friday's 
thoughts — the  Friday's  events  even — were  blotted  out  of  her  mind. 
Once  again,  creeping  chill  through  the  flow  of  her  young  blood, 
she  felt  the  slow  and  deadly  prompting  of  despair  which  had  come 
to  her  in  the  waning  moonlight,  which  had  whispered  to  her  in  the 
awful  calm. 

"  I  saw  the  end  as  the  end  must  be,"  she  said  to  herself,  "  on 
Thursday  night.     I  have  been  wrong  ever  since." 

When  she  and  her  companion  met  that  morning,  she  reiterated 
her  complaint  of  suffering  from  the  toothache ;  she  repeated  her  re- 
fusal to  allow  Mrs.  Wragge  to  procure  a  remedy ;  she  left  the  house 
after  breakfast,  in  the  direction  of  the  chemist's  shop,  exactly  as  she 
had  left  it  on  the  morning  before. 

This  time  she  entered  the  shop  without  an  instant's  hesitation. 

"  I  have  got  an  attack  of  toothache,"  she  said  abruptly,  to  an 
elderly  man  who  stood  behind  the  counter. 

"  May  I  look  at  the  tooth,  Miss  ?" 

"  There  is  no  necessity  to  look.  It  is  a  hollow  tooth.  I  think  I 
have  caught  cold  in  it." 

The  chemist  recommended  various  remedies  which  were  in  vogue 
fifteen  years  since.     She  declined  purchasing  any  of  them. 


NO    NAME.  411 

•'  I  have  always  found  Laudanum  relieve  the  pain  better  than  any 
thing  else,"  she  said,  trifling  with  the  bottles  on  the  counter,  and 
looking  at  them  while  she  spoke,  instead  of  looking  at  the  chemist. 
"  Let  me  have  some  Laudanum." 

"Certainly,  Miss.  Excuse  my  asking  the  question  —  it  is  only  a 
matter  of  form.     You  are  staying  at  Aldborough,  I  think  ?" 

"  Yes.     I  am  Miss  Bygrave,  of  North  Shingles." 

The  chemist  bowed ;  and,  turning  to  his  shelves,  filled  an  ordi- 
nary half-ounce  bottle  with  laudanum  immediately.  In  ascertaining 
his  customer's  name  and  address  beforehand,  the  owner  of  the  shop 
had  taken  a  precaution  which  was  natural  to  a  careful  man,  but 
which  was  by  no  means  universal,  under  similar  circumstances,  in 
the  state  of  the  law  at  that  time. 

"  Shall  I  put  you  up  a  little  cotton  wool  with  the  laudanum  ?"  he 
asked,  after  he  had  placed  a  label  on  the  bottle,  and  had  written  a 
word  on  it  in  large  letters. 

"  If  you  please.  What  have  you  Mist  written  on  the  bottle  ?" 
She  put  the  question  sharply,  with  something  of  distrust  as  well  as 
curiosity  in  her  manner. 

The  chemist  answered  the  question  by  turning  the  label  toward 
her.     She  saw  written  on  it,  in  large  letters — Poison. 

"  I  like  to  be  on  the  safe  side,  Miss,"  said  the  old  man,  smiling. 
"Very  worthy  people  in  other  respects  are  often  sadly  careless  where 
poisons  are  concerned." 

She  began  trifling  again  with  the  bottles  on  the  counter,  and  put 
another  question,  with  an  ill-concealed  anxiety  to  hear  the  answer. 

"  Is  there  danger,"  she  asked,  "  in  such  a  little  drop  of  Laudanum 
as  that  ?" 

"  There  is  Death  in  it,  Miss,"  replied  the  chemist,  quietly. 

"  Death  to  a  child,  or  to  a  person  in  delicate  health  ?" 

"  Death  to  the  strongest  man  in  England,  let  him  be  who  he 


With  that  answer,  the  chemist  sealed  up  the  bottle  in  its  wrap- 
ping of  white  paper  and  handed  the  laudanum  to  Magdalen  across 
the  counter.     She  laughed  as  she  took  it  from  him,  and  paid  for  it. 

"  There  will  be  no  fear  of  accidents  at  North  Shingles,"  she  said. 
"  I  shall  keep  the  bottle  locked  up  in  my  dressing-case.  If  it  doesn't 
relieve  the  pain,  I  must  come  to  you  again,  and  try  some  other  rem- 
edy.   Good-morning." 

"  Good-morning,  Miss." 

She  went  straight  back  to  the  house  without  once  looking  up, 
without  noticing  any  one  who  passed  her.  She  brushed  by  Mrs. 
Wragge  in  the  passage  as  she  might  have  brushed  by  a  piece  of 
furniture.  She  ascended  the  stairs,  and  caught  her  foot  twice  in  her 
dress,  from  sheer  inattention  to  the  common  precaution  of  holding 


412  NO   NAME. 

it  up.  ihe  trivial  daily  interests  of  life  had  lost  their  hold  on  her 
already. 

In  the  privacy  of  her  own  room,  she  took  the  bottle  from  its  wrap- 
ping, and  threw  the  paper  and  the  cotton  wool  into  the  fire-place. 
At  the  moment  when  she  did  this  there  was  a  knock  at  the  door. 
She  hid  the  little  bottle,  and  looked  up  impatiently.  Mrs.  Wragge 
came  into  the  room. 

"  Have  you  got  something  for  your  toothache,  my  dear  ?" 

"  Yes." 

"  Can  I  do  any  thing  to  help  you  ?" 

"  No." 

Mrs.  Wragge  still  lingered  uneasily  near  the  door.  Her  manner 
showed  plainly  that  she  had  something  more  to  say. 

"  What  is  it  ?"  asked  Magdalen,  sharply. 

"  Don't  be  angry,"  said  Mrs.  Wragge.  "  I'm  not  settled  in  my 
mind  about  the  captam.  He's  a  great  writer,  and  he  hasn't  written. 
He's  as  quick  as  lightning,  and  he  hasn't  come  back.  Here's  Satur- 
day, and  no  signs  of  him.  Has  he  run  away,  do  you  think  ?  Has 
any  thing  happened  to  him  ?" 

"  I  should  think  not.  Go  down  stairs ;  I'll  come  and  speak  to 
you  about  it  directly." 

As  soon  as  she  was  alone  again,  Magdalen  rose  from  her  chair, 
advanced  toward  a  cupboard  in  the  room  which  locked,  and  paused 
for  a  moment,  with  her  hand  on  the  key,  in  doubt.  Mrs.  Wragge's 
appearance  had  disturbed  the  whole  current  of  her  thoughts.  Mrs. 
Wragge's  last  question,  trifling  as  it  was,  had  checked  her  on  the 
verge  of  the  precipice — had  roused  the  old  vain  hope  in  her  once 
more  of  release  by  accident. 

"  Why  not?"  she  said.  "  Why  may  something  not  have  happened 
to  one  of  them  ?" 

She  placed  the  laudanum  in  the  cupboard,  locked  it,  and  put  the 
key  in  her  pocket.  "  Time  enough  still,"  she  thought,  "before  Mon- 
day.    I'll  wait  till  the  captain  comes  back." 

After  some  consultation  down  stairs,  it  was  agreed  that  the  serv- 
ant should  sit  up  that  night,  in  expectation  of  her  master's  return. 
The  day  passed  quietly,  without  events  of  any  kind.  Magdalen 
dreamed  away  the  hours  over  a  book.  A  weary  patience  of  ex- 
pectation was  all  she  felt  now — the  poignant  torment  of  thought 
was  dulled  and  blunted  at  last.  She  passed  the  day  and  the  even- 
ing in  the  parlor,  vaguely  conscious  of  a  strange  feeling  of  aversion 
to  going  back  to  her  own  room.  As  the  night  advanced,  as  the 
noises  ceased  indoors  and  out,  her  restlessness  began  to  return. 
She  endeavored  to  quiet  herself  by  reading.  Books  failed  to  fix 
her  attention.  The  newspaper  was  lying  in  a  corner  of  the  room : 
she  tried  the  newspaper  next. 


NO    NAME.  413 

She  looked  mechanically  at  the  headings  of  the  articles;  she  list- 
lessly turned  over  page  after  page,  until  her  wandering  attention 
was  arrested  by  the  narrative  of  an  Execution  in  a  distant  part  of 
England.  There  was  nothing  to  strike  her  in  the  story  of  the  crime, 
and  yet  she  read  it.  It  was  a  common,  horribly  common,  act  of 
bloodshed — the  murder  of  a  woman  in  farm-service  by  a  man  in  the 
same  employment  who  was  jealous  of  her.  He  had  been  convicted 
on  no  extraordinary  evidence,  he  had  been  hanged  under  no  unusual 
circumstances.  He  had  made  his  confession,  when  he  knew  there 
was  no  hope  for  him,  like  other  criminals  of  his  class,  and  the  news- 
paper had  printed  it  at  the  end  of  the  article,  in  these  terms : 

"  I  kept  company  with  the  deceased  for  a  year  or  thereabouts.  I 
said  I  would  marry  her  when  I  had  money  enough.  She  said  I  had 
money  enough  now.  We  had  a  quarrel.  She  refused  to  walk  out 
with  me  any  more ;  she  wouldn't  draw  me  my  beer ;  she  took  up 
with  my  fellow-servant,  David  Crouch.  I  went  to  her  on  the  Satur- 
day, and  said  I  would  marry  her  as  soon  as  we  could  be  asked  in 
church  if  she  would  give  up  Crouch.  She  laughed  at  me.  She 
turned  me  out  of  the  wash-house,  and  the  rest  of  them  saw  her  turn 
me  out.  I  was  not  easy  in  my  mind.  I  went  and  sat  on  the  gate — 
the  gate  in  the  meadow  they  call  Pettit's  Piece.  I  thought  I  would 
shoot  her.  I  went  and  fetched  my  gun  and  loaded  it.  I  went  out 
into  Pettit's  Piece  again.  I  was  hard  put  to  it  to  make  up  my  mind. 
I  thought  I  would  try  my  luck — I  mean  try  whether  to  kill  her  or 
not — by  throwing  up  the  Spud  of  the  plow  into  the  air.  I  said  to 
myself,  if  it  falls  flat,  I'll  spare  her ;  if  it  falls  point  in  the  earth, 
I'll  kill  her.  I  took  a  good  swing  with  it,  and  shied  it  up.  It  fell 
point  in  the  earth.  I  went  and  shot  her.  It  was  a  bad  job,  but  I 
did  it.  I  did  it,  as  they  said  I  did  it  at  the  trial.  I  hope  the  Lord 
will  have  mercy  on  me.  I  wish  my  mother  to  have  my  old  clothes. 
I  have  no  more  to  say." 

In  the  happier  days  of  her  life,  Magdalen  would  have  passed  over 
the  narrative  of  the  execution,  and  the  printed  confession  which  ac- 
companied it,  unread ;  the  subject  would  have  failed  to  attract  her. 
She  read  the  horrible  story  now — read  it  with  an  interest  unintelli- 
gible to  herself.  Her  attention,  which  had  wandered  over  higher 
and  better  things,  followed  every  sentence  of  the  murderer's  hid- 
eously direct  confession  from  beginning  to  end.  If  the  man  or  the 
woman  had  been  known  to  her,  if  the  place  had  been  familiar  to  her 
memory,  she  could  hardly  have  followed  the  narrative  more  closely, 
or  have  felt  a  more  distinct  impression  of  it  left  on  her  mind.  She 
laid  down  the  paper,  wondering  at  herself ;  she  took  it  up  once 
more,  and  tried  to  read  some  other  portion  of  the  contents.  The 
effort  was  useless;  her  attention  wandered  again.  She  threw  the 
paper  away,  and  went  out  into  the  garden.     The  night  was  dark; 


414  NO   NAME. 

the  stars  were  few  and  faint.  She  could  just  see  the  gravel-walk— ■ 
she  could  just  pace  backward  and  forward  between  the  house  door 
and  the  gate. 

The  confession  in  the  newspaper  had  taken  a  fearful  hold  on  her 
mind.  As  she  paced  the  walk,  the  black  night  opened  over  the  sea, 
and  showed  her  the  murderer  in  the  field  hurling  the  Spud  of  the 
plow  into  the  air.  She  ran,  shuddering,  back  to  the  house.  The 
murderer  followed  her  into  the  parlor.  She  seized  the  candle  and 
went  up  into  her  room.  The  vision  of  her  own  distempered  fancy 
followed  her  to  the  place  where  the  laudanum  was  hidden,  and  van- 
ished there. 

It  was  midnight,  and  there  was  no  sign  yet  of  the  captain's  return. 

She  took  from  the  writing-case  the  long  letter  which  she  had  writ- 
ten to  Norah,  and  slowly  read  it  through.  The  letter  quieted  her. 
When  she  reached  the  blank  space  left  at  the  end,  she  hurriedly 
turned  back  and  began  it  over  again. 

One  o'clock  struck  from  the  church  clock,  and  still  the  captain 
never  appeared. 

She  read  the  letter  for  the  second  time  ;  she  turned  back  obsti- 
nately, despairingly,  and  began  it  for  the  third  time.  As  she  once 
more  reached  the  last  page,  she  looked  at  her  watch.  It  was  a  quar- 
ter to  two.  She  had  just  put  the  watch  back  in  the  belt  of  her  dress, 
when  there  came  to  her — far  oft*  in  the  stillness  of  the  morning — a 
sound  of  wheels. 

She  dropped  the  letter,  and  clasped  her  cold  hands  in  her  lap  and 
listened.  The  sound  came  on,  faster  and  faster,  nearer  and  Dearer — 
the  trivial  sound  to  all  other  ears ;  the  sound  of  Doom  to  hers.  It 
passed  the  side  of  the  house ;  it  traveled  a  little  further  on  ;  it  stop- 
ped. She  heard  a  loud  knocking — then  the  opening  of  a  window — 
then  voices — then  a  long  silence — then  the  wheels  again  coming  back 
— then  the  opening  of  the  door  below,  and  the  sound  of  the  captain's 
voice  in  the  passage. 

She  could  endure  it  no  longer.  She  opened  her  door  a  little  way 
and  called  to  him. 

He  ran  up  stairs  instantly,  astonished  that  she  was  not  in  bed. 
She  spoke  to  him  through  the  narrow  opening  of  the  door,  keeping 
herself  hidden  behind  it,  for  she  was  afraid  to  let  him  see  her  face. 

"  Has  any  thing  gone  wrong  ?"  she  asked. 

"  Make  your  mind  easy,"  he  answered.    "  Nothing  has  gone  wrong." 

"  Is  no  accident  likely  to  happen  between  this  and  Monday  ?" 

"None  whatever.     The  marriage  is  a  certainty." 

"  A  certainty  ?" 

"  Yes." 

"  Good-night." 

She  put  her  hand  out  through  the  door.     He  took  it  with  some 


NO    NAME.  415 

little  surprise  ;  it  was  not  often  in  his  experience  that  she  gave  him 
her  hand  of  her  own  accord. 

"  You  have  sat  up  too  long,"  he  said,  as  he  felt  the  clasp  of  her 
cold  ringers.  "  I  am  afraid  you  will  have  a  bad  night — I'm  afraid 
you  will  not  sleep." 

She  softly  closed  the  door. 

"  I  shall  sleep,"  she  said,  "  sounder  than  you  think  for." 

It  was  past  two  o'clock  when  she  shut  herself  up  alone  in  her  room. 
Her  chair  stood  in  its  customary  place  by  the  toilet-table.  She  sat 
down  for  a  few  minutes  thoughtfully,  then  opened  her  letter  to  No- 
rah,  and  turned  to  the  end  where  the  blank  space  was  left.    The  last 

lines  written  above  the  space  ran  thus: "I  have  laid  my  whole 

heart  bare  to  you ;  I  have  hidden  nothing.  It  has  come  to  this.  The 
end  I  have  toiled  for,  at  such  terrible  cost  to  myself,  is  an  end  which 
I  must  reach  or  die.  It  is  wickedness,  madness,  what  you  will — but 
it  is  so.  There  are  now  two  journeys  before  me  to  choose  between. 
If  I  can  marry  him — the  journey  to  the  church.  If  the  profanation 
of  myself  is  more  than  I  can  bear — the  journey  to  the  grave  !" 

Under  that  last  sentence,  she  wrote  these  lines  : 

"  My  choice  is  made.  If  the  cruel  law  will  let  you,  lay  me  with 
my  father  and  mother  in  the  church-yard  at  home.  Farewell,  my 
love !  Be  always  innocent ;  be  always  happy.  If  Frank  ever  asks 
about  me,  say  I  died  forgiving  him.  Don't  grieve  long  for  me, 
Norah — I  am  not  worth  it." 

She  sealed  the  letter,  and  addressed  it  to  her  sister.  The  tears 
gathered  in  her  eyes  as  she  laid  it  on  the  table.  She  waited  until 
her  sight  was  clear  again,  and  then  took  the  bank-notes  once  more 
from  the  little  bag  in  her  bosom.  After  wrapping  them  in  a  sheet 
of  note-paper,  she  wrote  Captain  Wragge's  name  on  the  inclosure, 
and  added  these  words  below  it :  "  Lock  the  door  of  my  room,  and 
leave  me  till  my  sister  comes.  The  money  I  promised  you  is  in  this. 
You  are  not  to  blame ;  it  is  my  fault,  and  mine  only.  If  you  have 
any  friendly  remembrance  of  me,  be  kind  to  your  wife  for  my  sake." 

After  placing  the  inclosure  by  the  letter  to  Norah,  she  rose  and 
looked  round  the  room.  Some  few  little  things  in  it  were  not  in 
their  places.  She  set  them  in  order,  and  drew  the  curtains  on  ei- 
ther side  at  the  head  of  her  bed.  Her  own  dress  was  the  next  ob- 
ject of  her  scrutiny.  It  was  all  as  neat,  as  pure,  as  prettily  arranged 
as  ever.  Nothing  about  her  was  disordered  but  her  hair.  Some 
tresses  had  fallen  loose  on  one  side  of  her  head ;  she  carefully  put 
them  back  in  their  places  with  the  help  of  her  glass.  "  How  pale  I 
look !"  she  thought,  with  a  faint  smile.  "  Shall  I  be  paler  still  when 
they  find  me  in  the  morning  ?" 

She  went  straight  to  the  place  where  the  laudanum  was  hidden, 


416  NO    NAME. 

and  took  it  out.  The  bottle  was  so  small  that  it  lay  easily  in  the 
palm  of  her  hand.  She  let  it  remain  there  for  a  little  while,  and 
stood  looking  at  it. 

"  Death  !"  she  said.     "  In  this  drop  of  brown  drink — Death  !" 

As  the  words  passed  her  lips,  an  agony  of  unutterable  horror 
seized  on  her  in  an  instant.  She  crossed  the  room  unsteadily,  with 
a  maddening  confusion  in  her  head,  with  a  suffocating  anguish  at 
her  heart.  She  caught  at  the  table  to  support  herself.  The  faint 
clink  of  the  bottle,  as  it  fell  harmlessly  from  her  loosened  grasj>  and 
rolled  against  some  porcelain  object  on  the  table,  struck  through 
her  brain  like  the  stroke  of  a  knife.  The  sound  of  her  own  voice, 
sunk  to  a  whisper — her  voice  only  uttering  that  one  word,  Death — 
rushed  in  her  ears  like  the  rushing  of  a  wind.  She  dragged  herself 
to  the  bedside,  and  rested  her  head  against  it,  sitting  on  the  floor. 
"  Oh,  my  life !  my  life  !"  she  thought ;  "  what  is  my  life  worth,  that 
I  cling  to  it  like  this  ?" 

An  interval  passed,  and  she  felt  her  strength  returning.  She 
raised  herself  on  her  knees,  and  hid  her  face  on  the  bed.  She  tried 
to  pray  —  to  pray  to  be  forgiven  for  seeking  the  refuge  of  death. 
Frantic  words  burst  from  her  lips — words  which  would  have  risen 
to  cries,  if  she  had  not  stifled  them  in  the  bed-clothes.  She  started 
to  her  feet ;  despair  strengthened  her  with  a  headlong  fury  against 
herself.  In  one  moment  she  was  back  at  the  table  ;  in  another,  the 
poison  was  once  more  in  her  hand. 

She  removed  the  cork  and  lifted  the  bottle  to  her  mouth. 

At  the  first  cold  touch  of  the  glass  on  her  lips,  her  strong  young 
life  leaped  up  in  her  leaping  blood,  and  fought  with  the  whole 
frenzy  of  its  loathing  against  the  close  terror  of  Death.  Every  act- 
ive power  in  the  exuberant  vital  force  that  was  in  her  rose  in  re- 
volt against  the  destruction  which  her  own  will  would  fain  have 
wreaked  on  her  own  life.  She  paused :  for  the  second  time,  she 
paused  in  spite  of  herself.  There,  in  the  glorious  perfection  of  her 
youth  and  health — there,  trembling  on  the  verge  of  human  exist- 
ence, she  stood ;  with  the  kiss  of  the  Destroyer  close  at  her  lips,  and 
Nature,  faithful  to  its  sacred  trust,  fighting  for  the  salvation  of  her 
to  the  last. 

No  word  passed  her  lips.  Her  cheeks  flushed  deep ;  her  breath 
came  thick  and  fast.  With  the  poison  still  in  her  hand,  with  the 
sense  that  she  might  faint  in  another  moment,  she  made  for  the 
window,  and  threw  back  the  curtain  that  covered  it. 

The  new  day  had  risen.  The  broad  gray  dawn  flowed  in  on  her, 
over  the  quiet  eastern  sea. 

She  saw  the  waters  heaving,  large  and  silent,  in  the  misty  calm : 
she  felt  the  fresh  breath  of  the  morning  flutter  cool  on  her  face. 
Her  strength  returned  ;  her  mind  cleared  a  little.     At  the  sight  of 


NO    NAME.  417 

the  sea,  her  memory  recalled  the  walk  in  the  garden  overnight,  and 
the  picture  which  her  distempered  fancy  had  painted  on  the  black 
void.  In  thought,  she  saw  the  picture  again — the  murderer  hurl- 
ing the  Spud  of  the  plow  into  the  air,  and  setting  the  life  or  death 
of  the  woman  who  had  deserted  him  on  the  hazard  of  the  falling 
point.  The  infection  of  that  terrible  superstition  seized  on  her 
mind  as  suddenly  as  the  new  day  had  burst  on  her  view.  The 
promise  of  release  which  she  saw  in  it  from  the  horror  of  her  own 
hesitation  roused  the  last  energies  of  her  despair.  She  resolved  to 
end  the  struggle  by  setting  her  life  or  death  on  the  hazard  of  a 
chance. 

On  what  chance  ? 

The  sea  showed  it  to  her.  Dimly  distinguishable  through  the 
mist,  she  saw  a  little  fleet  of  coasting-vessels  slowly  drifting  toward 
the  house,  all  following  the  same  direction  with  the  favoring  set  of 
the  tide.  In  half  an  hour — perhaps  in  less — the  fleet  would  have 
passed  her  window.  The  hands  of  her  watch  pointed  to  four 
o'clock.  She  seated  herself  close  at  the  side  of  the  window,  with 
her  back  toward  the  quarter  from  which  the  vessels  were  drifting 
down  on  her — with  the  poison  placed  on  the  window-sill,  and  the 
watch  on  her  lap.  For  one  half-hour  to  come  she  determined  to 
wait  there  and  count  the  vessels  as  they  went  by.  If  in  that  time 
an  even  number  passed  her,  the  sign  given  should  be  a  sign  to  live. 
If  the  uneven  number  prevailed,  the  end  should  be  Death. 

With  that  final  resolution,  she  rested  her  head  against  the  win- 
dow, and  waited  for  the  ships  to  pass. 

The  first  came,  high,  dark,  and  near  in  the  mist,  gliding  silently 
over  the  silent  sea.  An  interval  —  and  the  second  followed,  with 
the  third  close  after  it.  Another  interval,  longer  and  longer  drawn 
out — and  nothing  passed.  She  looked  at  her  watch.  Twelve  min- 
utes, and  three  ships.     Three. 

The  fourth' came,  slower  than  the  rest,  larger  than  the  rest,  far- 
ther off  in  the  mist  than  the  rest.  The  interval  followed ;  a  long 
interval  once  more.  Then  the  next  vessel  passed,  darkest  and  near- 
est of  all.     Five.     The  next  uneven  number— Five. 

She  looked  at  her  watch  again.  Nineteen  minutes,  and  five  ships. 
Twenty  minutes.  Twenty  -  one,  two,  three  —  and  no  sixth  vessel. 
Twenty  -  four,  and  the  sixth  came  by.  Twenty  -  five,  twenty  -  six, 
twenty-seven,  twenty-eight,  and  the  next  uneven  number — the  fatal 
Seven  —  glided  into  view.  Two  minutes  to  the  end  of  the  half- 
hour.     And  seven  ships. 

Twenty-nine,  and  nothing  followed  in  the  wake  of  the  seventh 
ship.  The  minute-hand  of  the  watch  moved  on  half-way  to  thirty, 
and  still  the  wliite  heaving  sea  was  a  misty  blank.  Without  mov- 
ing her  head  from  the  window,  she  took  the  poison  in  one  hand, 


418  NO    NAME. 

and  raised  the  watch  in  the  other.  As  the  quick  seconds  counted 
each  other  out,  her  eyes,  as  quick  as  they,  looked  from  the  watch 
to  the  sea,  from  the  sea  to  the  watch — looked  for  the  last  time  at 
the  sea — and  saw  the  Eighth  ship. 

She  never  moved,  she  never  spoke.  The  death  of  thought,  the 
death  of  feeling,  seemed  to  have  come  to  her  already.  She  put 
back  the  poison  mechanically  on  the  ledge  of  the  window,  and 
watched,  as  in  a  dream,  the  ship  gliding  smoothly  on  its  silent  way 
—gliding  till  it  melted  dimly  into  shadow — gliding  till  it  was  lost 
in  the  mist. 

The  strain  on  her  mind  relaxed  when  the  Messenger  of  Life  had 
passed  from  her  sight. 

"  Providence  ?"  she  whispered  faintly  to  herself.     "  Or  chance  ?" 

Her  eyes  closed,  and  her  head  fell  back.  When  the  sense  of  life 
returned  to  her,  the  morning  sun  was  warm  on  her  face — the  blue 
heaven  looked  down  en  her — and  the  sea  was  a  sea  of  gold. 

She  fell  on  her  knees  at  the  window  and  burst  into  tears. 
******* 

Toward  noon  that  day,  the  captain,  waiting  below  stairs,  and 
hearing  no  movement  in  Magdalen's  room,  felt  uneasy  at  the  long 
silence.  He  desired  the  new  maid  to  follow  him  up  stairs,  and, 
pointing  to  the  door,  told  her  to  go  in  softly,  and  see  whether  her 
mistress  was  awake. 

The  maid  entered  the  room,  remained  there  a  moment,  and  came 
out  again,  closing  the  door  gently. 

"  She  looks  beautiful,  sir,"  said  the  girl ;  "  and  she's  sleeping  as 
quietly  as  a  new-born  child." 


CHAPTER  Xm. 

The  morning  of  her  husband's  return  to  North  Shingles  was  a 
morning  memorable  forever  in  the  domestic  calendar  of  Mrs.  Wragge. 
She  dated  from  that  occasion  the  first  announcement  which  reached 
her  of  Magdalen's  marriage. 

It  had  been  Mrs.  Wragge's  earthly  lot  to  pass  her  life  in  a  state 
of  perpetual  surprise.  Never  yet,  however,  had  she  wandered  in 
such  a  maze  of  astonishment  as  the  maze  in  which  sh^  lost  herself 
when  the  captain  coolly  told  her  the  truth.  She  had  been  sharp 
enough  to  suspect  Mr.  Noel  Vanstone  of  coming  to  the  house  in  the 
character  of  a  sweetheart  on  approval;  and  she  had  dimly  in- 
terpreted certain  expressions  of  impatience  which  had  fallen  from 
Magdalen's  lips,  as  boding  ill  for  the  success  of  his  suit,  but  her  ut- 
most penetration  had  never  reached  as  far  as  a  suspicion  of  the  im- 


NO    NAME.  419 

pending  marriage.  She  rose  from  one  climax  of  amazement  to  an- 
other, as  her  husband  proceeded  with  his  disclosure.  A  wedding 
in  the  family  at  a  day's  notice  !  and  that  wedding  Magdalen's !  and 
not  a  single  new  dress  ordered  for  any  body,  the  bride  included ! 
and  the  Oriental  Cashmere  Robe  totally  unavailable  on  the  occasion 
when  she  might  have  worn  it  to  the  greatest  advantage  !  Mrs. 
Wragge  dropped  crookedly  into  a  chair,  and  beat  her  disorderly 
hands  on  her  unsymmetrical  knees,  in  utter  forgetfulness  of  the  cap- 
tain's presence  and  the  captain's  terrible  eye.  It  would  not  have 
surprised  her  to  hear  that  the  world  had  come  to  an  end,  and  that 
the  only  mortal  whom  Destiny  had  overlooked,  in  winding  up  the 
affairs  of  this  earthly  planet,  was  herself ! 

Leaving  his  wife  to  recover  her  composure  by  her  own  unaided 
efforts,  Captain  Wragge  withdrew  to  wait  for  Magdalen's  appear- 
ance in  the  lower  regions  of  the  house.  It  was  close  on  one  o'clock 
before  the  sound  of  footsteps  in  the  room  above  warned  him  that 
she  was  awake  and  stirring.  He  called  at  once  for  the  maid  (whose 
name  he  had  ascertained  to  be  Louisa),  and  sent  her  up  stairs  to  her 
mistress  for  the  second  time. 

Magdalen  was  standing  by  her  dressing-table,  when  a  faint  tap  at 
the  door  suddenly  roused  her.  The  tap  was  followed  by  the  sound 
of  a  meek  voice,  which  announced  itself  as  the  voice  of  "  her  maid," 
and  inquired  if  Miss  Bygrave  needed  any  assistance  that  morning. 

"  Not  at  present,"  said  Magdalen,  as  soon  as  she  had  recovered 
the  surprise  of  finding  herself  unexpectedly  provided  with  an  at- 
tendant.    "  I  will  ring  when  I  want  you." 

After  dismissing  the  woman  with  that  answer,  she  accidentally 
looked  from  the  door  to  the  window.  Any  speculations  on  the 
subject  of  the  new  servant  in  which  she  might  otherwise  have  en- 
gaged were  instantly  suspended  by  the  sight  of  the  bottle  of  lauda- 
num, still  standing  on  the  ledge  of  the  window,  where  she  had  left 
it  at  sunrise.  She  took  it  once  more  in  her  hand,  with  a  strange 
confusion  of  feeling  —  with  a  vague  doubt  even  yet,  whether  the 
sight  of  it  reminded  her  of  a  terrible  reality  or  a  terrible  dream. 
Her  first  impulse  was  to  rid  herself  of  it  on  the  spot.  She  raised 
the  bottle  to  throw  the  contents  out  of  the  window,  and  paused,  in 
sudden  distrust  of  the  impulse  that  had  come  to  her.  "  I  have  ac- 
cepted my  new  life,"  she  thought.  "  How  do  I  know  what  that  life 
may  have  in  store  for  me  ?"  She  turned  from  the  window,  and 
went  back  to  the  table.  "  I  may  be  forced  to  drink  it  yet,"  she  said, 
and  put  the  laudanum  into  her  dressing-case. 

Her  mind  was  not  at  ease  when  she  had  done  this :  there  seemed 
to  be  some  indefinable  ingratitude  in  the  act.  Still  she  made  no 
attempt  to  remove  the  bottle  from  its  hiding-place.  She'hurried  on 
her  toilet ;  she  hastened  the  time  when  she  could  ring  for  the  maid, 


420  NO    NAME. 

and  forget  herself  and  her  waking  thoughts  in  a  new  subject.  After 
touching  the  bell,  she  took  from  the  table  her  letter  to  Norah  and 
her  letter  to  the  captain,  put  them  both  into  her  dressing-case  with 
the  laudanum,  and  locked  it  securely  with  the  key  which  she  kept 
attached  to  her  watch-chain. 

Magdalen's  first  impression  of  her  attendant  was  not  an  agreeable 
one.  She  could  not  investigate  the  girl  with  the  experienced  eye 
of  the  landlady  at  the  London  hotel,  who  had  characterized  the 
stranger  as  a  young  person  overtaken  by  misfortune,  and  who  had 
showed  plainly,  by  her  look  and  manner,  of  what  nature  she  suspect- 
ed that  misfortune  to  be.  But  with  this  drawback,  Magdalen  was 
perfectly  competent  to  detect  the  tokens  of  sickness  and  sorrow 
lurking  under  the  surface  of  the  new  maid's  activity  and  politeness. 
She  suspected  the  girl  was  ill-tempered ;  she  disliked  her  name ; 
and  she  was  indisposed  to  welcome  any  servant  who  had  been  en- 
gaged by  Noel  Vanstone.  But  after  the  first  few  minutes, "  Louisa  " 
grew  on  her  liking.  She  answered  all  the  questions  put  to  her 
with  perfect  directness ;  she  appeared  to  understand  her  duties 
thoroughly ;  and  she  never  spoke  until  she  was  spoken  to  first. 
After  making  all  the  inquiries  that  occurred  to  her  at  the  time,  and 
after  determining  to  give  the  maid  a  fair  trial,  Magdalen  rose  to 
leave  the  room.  The  very  air  in  it  was  still  heavy  to  her  with  the 
oppression  of  the  past  night. 

"  Have  you  any  thing  more  to  say  to  me  ?"  she  asked,  turning  to 
the  servant,  with  her  hand  on  the  door. 

"  I  beg  your  pardon,  Miss,"  said  Louisa,  very  respectfully  and 
very  quietly.  "  I  think  my  master  told  me  that  the  marriage  was 
to  be  to-morrow  ?" 

Magdalen  repressed  the  shudder  that  stole  over  her  at  that  refer- 
ence to  the  marriage  on  the  lips  of  a  stranger,  and  answered  in  the 
affirmative. 

"  It's  a  very  short  time,  Miss,  to  prepare  in.  If  you  would  be  so 
kind  as  to  give  me  my  orders  about  the  packing  before  you  go  down 
stairs —  ?" 

"  There  are  no  such  preparations  to  make  as  you  suppose,"  said 
Magdalen,  hastily.  "  The  few  things  I  have  here  can  be  all  packed 
at  once,  if  you  like.  I  shall  wear  the  same  dress  to-morrow  which 
I  have  on  to-day.  Leave  out  the  straw  bonnet  and  the  light  shawl, 
and  put  every  thing  else  into  my  boxes.  I  have  no  new  dresses  to 
pack ;  I  have  nothing  ordered  for  the  occasion  of  any  sort."  She 
tried  to  add  some  commonplace  phrases  of  explanation,  accounting 
as  probably  as  might  be  for  the  absence  of  the  usual  wedding  outfit 
and  wedding-dress.  But  no  further  reference  to  the  marriage 
would  pass  her  lips,  and  without  another  word  she  abruptly  left 
the  room. 


NO   NAME.  421 

The  meek  and  melancholy  Louisa  stood  lost  in  astonishment. 
"  Something  wrong  here,"  she  thought.  "  I'm  half  afraid  of  my 
new  place  already."  She  sighed  resignedly,  shook  her  head,  and 
went  to  the  wardrobe.  She  first  examined  the  drawers  underneath, 
took  out  the  various  articles  of  linen  laid  inside,  and  placed  them  on 
chairs.  Opening  the  upper  part  of  the  wardrobe  next,  she  ranged 
the  dresses  in  it  side  by  side  on  the  bed.  Her  last  proceeding  was 
to  push  the  empty  boxes  into  the  middle  of  the  room,  and  to  com- 
pare the  space  at  her  disposal  with  the  articles  of  dress  which  she 
had  to  pack.  She  completed  her  preliminary  calculations  with  the 
ready  self-reliance  of  a  woman  who  thoroughly  understood  her  busi- 
ness, and  began  the  packing  forthwith.  Just  as  she  had  placed  the 
first  article  of  linen  in  the  smaller  box,  the  door  of  the  room  opened, 
and  the  house-servant,  eager  for  gossip,  came  in. 

"  What  do  you  want  ?"  asked  Louisa,  quietly. 

"  Did  you  ever  hear  of  any  thing  like  this  !"  said  the  house-serv- 
ant, entering  on  her  subject  immediately. 

"  Like  what  ?" 

"  Like  this  marriage,  to  be  sure.  You're  London  bred,  they  tell 
me.  Did  you  ever  hear  of  a  young  lady  being  married  without  a 
single  new  thing  to  her  back  ?  No  wedding  veil,  and  no  wedding 
breakfast,  and  no  wedding  favors  for  the  servants.  It's  flying  in 
the  face  of  Providence — that's  what  I  say.  I'm  only  a  poor  servant, 
I  know.  But  it's  wicked,  downright  wicked  —  and  I  don't  care 
who  hears  me !" 

Louisa  went  on  with  the  packing. 

"  Look  at  her  dresses !"  persisted  the  house-servant,  waving  her 
hand  indignantly  at  the  bed.  "  I'm  only  a  poor  girl,  but  I  wouldn't 
marry  the  best  man  alive  without  a  new  gown  to  my  back.  Look 
here  !  look  at  this  dowdy  brown  thing  here.  Alpaca  !  You're  not 
going  to  pack  this  Alpaca  thing,  are  you  ?  Why,  it's  hardly  fit  for 
a  servant !  I  don't  know  that  I'd  take  a  gift  of  it  if  it  was  offered 
me.  It  would  do  for  me  if  I  took  it  up  in  the  skirt,  and  let  it  out 
in  the  waist — and  it  wouldn't  look  so  bad  with  a  bit  of  bright  trim- 
ming, would  it  ?" 

"  Let  that  dress  alone,  if  you  please,"  said  Louisa,  as  quietly  as 
ever. 

"  What  did  you  say  ?"  inquired  the  other,  doubting  whether  her 
ears  had  not  deceived  her. 

"  I  said,  let  that  dress  alone.  It  belongs  to  my  mistress,  and  I 
have  my  mistress's  orders  to  pack  up  every  thing  in  the  room.  You 
are  not  helping  me  by  coming  here — you  are  very  much  in  my  way." 

"Well!"  said  the  house  -  servant,  "you  may  be  London  bred,  as 
they  say.  But  if  these  are  your  London  manners,  give  me  Suffolk  !" 
She  opened  the  door  with  an  angry  snatch  at  the  handle,  shut  it 


422  NO   NAME. 

violently,  opened  it  again,  and  looked  in.  "  Give  me  Suffolk  !"  said 
the  house-servant,  with  a  parting  nod  of  her  head  to  point  the  edge 
of  her  sarcasm. 

Louisa  proceeded  impenetrably  with  her  packing  up. 

Having  neatly  disposed  of  the  linen  in  the  smaller  box,  she  turned 
her  attention  to  the  dresses  next.  After  passing  them  carefully  in 
review,  to  ascertain  which  was  the  least  valuable  of  the  collection, 
and  to  place  that  one  at  the  bottom  of  the  trunk  for  the  rest  to  lie 
on,  she  made  her  choice  with  very  little  difficulty.  The  first  gown 
which  she  put  into  the  box  was — the  brown  Alpaca  dress. 

Meanwhile  Magdalen  had  joined  the  captain  down  stairs.  Al- 
though he  could  not  fail  to  notice  the  languor  in  her  face  and  the 
listlessness  of  all  her  movements,  he  was  relieved  to  find  that  she 
met  him  with  perfect  composure.  She  was  even  self-possessed 
enough  to  ask  him  for  news  of  his  journey,  with  no  other  signs  of 
agitation  than  a  passing  change  of  color  and  a  little  trembling  of 
the  lips. 

"  So  much  for  the  past,"  said  Captain  Wragge,  when  his  narra- 
tive of  the  expedition  to  London  by  way  of  St.  Crux  had  come  to 
an  end.     "  Now  for  the  present.     The  bridegroom — " 

"  If  it  makes  no  difference,"  she  interposed,  "  call  him  Mr.  Noel 
Vanstone." 

"  With  all  my  heart.  Mr.  Noel  Vanstone  is  coming  here  this  af- 
ternoon to  dine  and  spend  the  evening.  He  will  be  tiresome  in  the 
last  degree ;  but,  like  all  tiresome  people,  he  is  not  to  be  got  rid  of 
on  any  terms.  Before  he  comes,  I  have  a  last  word  or  two  of  cau- 
tion for  your  private  ear.  By  this  time  to-morrow  we  shall  have 
parted — without  any  certain  knowledge,  on  either  side,  of  our  ever 
meeting  again.  I  am  anxious  to  serve  your  interests  faithfully  to 
the  last ;  I  am  anxious  you  should  feel  that  I  have  done  all  I  could 
for  your  future  security  when  we  say  good-bye." 

Magdalen  looked  at  him  in  surprise.  He  spoke  in  altered  tones. 
He  was  agitated;  he  was  strangely  in  earnest.  Something  in  his 
look  and  manner  took  her  memory  back  to  the  first  night  at  Aid- 
borough,  when  she  had  opened  her  mind  to  him  in  the  darkening 
solitude — when  they  two  had  sat  together  alone  on  the  slope  of  the 
martello  tower. 

"  I  have  no  reason  to  think  otherwise  than  kindly  of  you,"  she  said. 

Captain  Wragge  suddenly  left  his  chair,  and  took  a  turn  back- 
ward and  forward  in  the  room.  Magdalen's  last  words  seemed  to 
have  produced  some  extraordinary  disturbance  in  him. 

"  Damn  it !"  he  broke  out ;  "  I  can't  let  you  say  that.  You  have 
reason  to  think  ill  of  me.  I  have  cheated  you.  You  never  got 
your  fair  shair  of  profit  from  the  Entertainment,  from  first  to  last. 
There  !  now  the  murder's  out !" 


NO   NAME.  423 

Magdalen  smiled,  and  signed  to  him  to  come  back  to  his  chair. 

"  I  know  you  cheated  me,"  she  said,  quietly.  "  You  were  in  the 
exercise  of  your  profession,  Captain  Wragge.  I  expected  it  when  I 
joined  you.  I  made  no  complaint  at  the  time,  and  I  make  none 
now.  If  the  money  you  took  is  any  recompense  for  all  the  trouble 
I  have  given  you,  you  are  heartily  welcome  to  it." 

"  Will  you  shake  hands  on  that  ?"  asked  the  captain,  with  an 
awkwardness  and  hesitation  strongly  at  variance  with  his  custom- 
ary ease  of  manner. 

Magdalen  gave  him  her  hand.  He  wrung  it  hard.  "  You  are  a 
strange  girl,"  he  said,  trying  to  speak  lightly.  "  You  have  laid  a 
hold  on  me  that  I  don't  quite  understand.  I'm  half  uncomfortable 
at  taking  the  money  from  you  now ;  and  yet  you  don't  want  it,  do 
you  ?"  He  hesitated.  "  I  almost  wish,"  he  said,  "  I  had  never  met 
you  on  the  Walls  of  York." 

"It  is  too  late  to  wish  that,  Captain  Wragge.  Say  no  more. 
You  only  distress  me — say  no  more.  We  have  other  subjects  to 
talk  about.  What  were  those  words  of  caution  which  you  had  for 
my  private  ear?" 

The  captain  took  another  turn  in  the  room,  and  struggled  back 
again  into  his  every-day  character.  He  produced  from  his  pocket- 
book  Mrs.  Lecount's  letter  to  her  master,  and  handed  it  to  Magdalen. 

"  There  is  the  letter  that  might  have  ruined  us,  if  it  had  ever 
reached  its  address,"  he  said.  "  Read  it  carefully.  I  have  a  ques- 
tion to  ask  you  when  you  have  done." 

Magdalen  read  the  letter.  "  What  is  this  proof,"  she  inquired, 
"  which  Mrs.  Lecount  relies  on  so  confidently  ?" 

"  The  very  question  I  was  going  to  ask  you,"  said  Captain 
Wragge.  "Consult  your  memory  of  what  happened  when  you 
tried  that  experiment  in  Vauxhall  Walk.  Did  Mrs.  Lecount  get 
no  other  chance  against  you  than  the  chances  you  have  told  me  of 
already  ?" 

"  She  discovered  that  my  face  was  disguised,  and  she  heard  me 
speak  in  my  own  voice." 

"And  nothing  more  ?" 

"  Nothing  more." 

"  Very  good.  Then  my  interpretation  of  the  letter  is  clearly  the 
right  one.  The  proof  Mrs.  Lecount  relies  on  is  my  wife's  infernal 
ghost  story— which  is,  in  plain  English,  the  story  of  Miss  Bygrave 
having  been  seen  in  Miss  Vanstone's  disguise ;  the  witness  being 
the  very  person  who  is  afterward  presented  at  Aldborough  in  the 
character  of  Miss  Bygrave's  aunt.  An  excellent  chance  for  Mrs. 
Lecount,  if  she  can  only  lay  her  hand  at  the  right  time  on  Mrs. 
Wragge,  and  no  chance  at  all,  if  she  can't.  Make  your  mind  easy 
on  that  point.     Mrs.  Lecount  and  my  wife  have  seen  the  last  of  each 


424  NO   NAME. 

other.  In  the  mean  time,  don't  neglect  the  warning  I  give  you,  hs 
giving  you  this  letter.  Tear  it  up,  for  fear  of  accidents,  but  don't 
forget  it." 

"  Trust  me  to  remember,  it,"  replied  Magdalen,  destroying  the  let- 
ter while  she  spoke.     "  Have  you  any  thing  more  to  tell  me  ?" 

"I  have  some  information  to  give  you,"  said  Captain  Wragge, 
"which  may  be  useful,  because  it  relates  to  your  future  security. 
Mind,  I  want  to  know  nothing  about  your  proceedings  when  to- 
morrow is  over ;  we  settled  that  when  we  first  discussed  this  mat- 
ter. I  ask  no  questions,  and  I  make  no  guesses.  All  I  want  to  do 
now  is  to  warn  you  of  your  legal  position  after  your  marriage,  and 
to  leave  you  to  make  what  use  you  please  of  your  knowledge,  at 
your  own  sole  discretion.  I  took  a  lawyer's  opinion  on  the  point 
when  I  was  in  London,  thinking  it  might  be  useful  to  you." 

"  It  is  sure  to  be  useful.     What  did  the  lawyer  say  ?" 

"  To  put  it  plainly,  this  is  what  he  said.  If  Mr.  Noel  Vanstone 
ever  discovers  that  you  have  knowingly  married  him  under  a  false 
name,  he  can  apply  to  the  Ecclesiastical  Court  to  have  his  marriage 
declared  null  and  void.  The  issue  of  the  application  would  rest 
with  the  judges.  But  if  he  could  prove  that  he  had  been  intention- 
ally deceived,  the  legal  opinion  is  that  his  case  would  be  a  strong 
one." 

"  Suppose  I  chose  to  apply  on  my  side  ?"  said  Magdalen,  eagerly. 
"  What  then  ?" 

"  You  might  make  the  application,"  replied  the  captain.  "  But 
remember  one  thing — you  would  come  into  Court  with  the  acknowl- 
edgment of  your  own  deception.  I  leave  you  to  imagine  what  the 
judges  would  think  of  that." 

"  Did  the  lawyer  tell  you  any  thing  else  ?" 

"  One  thing  besides,"  said  Captain  Wragge.  "  Whatever  the  law 
might  do  with  the  marriage  in  the  lifetime  of  both  the  parties  to  it 
— on  the  death  of  either  one  of  them,  no  application  made  by  the 
survivor  would  avail ;  and,  as  to  the  case  of  that  survivor,  the  mar- 
riage would  remain  valid.  You  understand  ?  If  he  dies,  or  if  you 
die — and  if  no  application  has  been  made  to  the  Court — he  the  sur- 
vivor, or  you  the  survivor,  would  have  no  power  of  disputing  the 
marriage.  But  in  the  lifetime  of  both  of  you,  if  he  claimed  to  have 
the  marriage  dissolved,  the  chances  are  all  in  favor  of  his  carrying 
his  point." 

He  looked  at  Magdalen  with  a  furtive  curiosity  as  he  said  those 
words.  She  turned  her  head  aside,  absently  tying  her  watch-chain 
into  a  loop  and  untying  it  again,  evidently  thinking  with  the  clos- 
est attention  over  what  he  had  last  said  to  her.  Captain  Wragge 
walked  uneasily  to  the  window  and  looked  out.  The  first  object 
that  caught  his  eye  was  Mr.  Noel  Vanstone  approaching  from  Sea 


NO    NAME.  425 

View.  He  returned  instantly  to  his  former  place  in  the  room,  and 
addressed  himself  to  Magdalen  once  more. 

"Here  is  Mr.  Noel  Vanstone,'1  he  said.  "  One  last  caution  before 
he  comes  in.  Be  on  your  guard  with  him  about  your  age.  He  put 
the  question  to  me  before  he  got  the  License.  I  took  the  shortest 
way  out  of  the  difficulty,  and  told  him  you  were  twenty-one,  and  he 
made  the  declaration  accordingly.  Never  mind  about  me;  after 
to-morrow  I  am  invisible.  But,  in  your  own  interests,  don't  forget, 
if  the  subject  turns  up,  that  you  were  of  age  when  you  married. 
There  is  nothing  more.  You  are  provided  with  every  necessary 
warning  that  I  can  give  you.  Whatever  happens  in  the  future,  re- 
member I  have  done  my  best." 

He  hurried  to  the  door  without  waiting  for  an  answer,  and  went 
out  into  the  garden  to  receive  his  guest. 

Noel  Vanstone  made  his  appearance  at  the  gate,  solemnly  carrying 
his  bridal  offering  to  North  Shingles  with  both  hands.  The  object 
in  question  was  an  ancient  casket  (one  of  his  father's  bargains) ;  in- 
side the  casket  reposed  an  old-fashioned  carbuncle  brooch,  set  in 
silver  (another  of  his  father's  bargains) — bridal  presents  both,  pos- 
sessing the  inestimable  merit  of  leaving  his  money  undisturbed  in 
his  pocket.  He  shook  his  head  portentously  when  the  captain  in- 
quired after  his  health  and  spirits.  He  had  passed  a  wakeful  night ; 
ungovernable  apprehensions  of  Lecount's  sudden  re-appearance  had 
beset  him  as  soon  as  he  found  himself  alone  at  Sea  View.  Sea  View 
was  redolent  of  Lecount :  Sea  View  (though  built  on  piles,  and  the 
strongest  house  in  England)  was  henceforth  odious  to  him.  He 
had  felt  this  all  night ;  he  had  also  felt  his  responsibilities.  There 
was  the  lady's  maid,  to  begin  with.  Now  he  had  hired  her,  he  be- 
gan to  think  she  wouldn't  do.  She  might  fall  sick  on  his  hands; 
she  might  have  deceived  him  by  a  false  character;  she  and  the 
landlady  of  the  hotel  might  have  been  in  league  together.  Horrible ! 
Really  horrible  to  think  of.  Then  there  was  the  other  responsibil- 
ity— perhaps  the  heaviest  of  the  two — the  responsibility  of  deciding 
where  he  was  to  go  and  sj^end  his  honey-moon  to-morrow.  He 
would  have  preferred  one  of  his  father's  empty  houses.  But  except 
at  Vauxhall  Walk  (which  he  supposed  would  be  objected  to),  and 
at  Aldborough  (which  was  of  course  out  of  the  question),  all  the 
houses  were  let.  He  would  put  himself  in  Mr.  Bygrave's  hands. 
Where  had  Mr.  Bygrave  spent  his  own  honey-moon?  Given  the 
British  Islands  to  choose  from,  where  would  Mr.  Bygrave  pitch  his 
tent,  on  a  careful  review  of  all  the  circumstances  ? 

At  this  point  the  bridegroom's  questions  suddenly  came  to  an 
end,  and  the  bridegroom's  face  exhibited  an  expression  of  ungov- 
ernable astonishment.  His  judicious  friend,  whose  advice  had  been 
at  his  disposal  in  every  other  emergency,  suddenly  turned  round  on 


426  NO  NAME. 

him,  in  the  emergency  of  the  honey-moon,  and  flatly  declined  dis< 
cussing  the  subject. 

"  No !"  said  the  captain,  as  Noel  Vanstone  opened  his  lips  to 
plead  for  a  hearing,  "  you  must  really  excuse  me.  My  point  of  view 
in  this  matter  is,  as  usual,  a  peculiar  one.  For  some  time  past  I 
have  been  living  in  an  atmosphere  of  deception,  to  suit  your  con- 
venience. That  atmosphere,  my  good  sir,  is  getting  close ;  my 
Moral  Being  requires  ventilation.  Settle  the  choice  of  a  locality 
with  my  niece,  and  leave  me,  at  my  particular  request,  in  total  igno- 
rance of  the  subject.  Mrs.  Lecount  is  certain  to  come  here  on  her 
return  from  Zurich,  and  is  certain  to  ask  me  where  you  are  gone. 
You  may  think  it  strange,  Mr.  Vanstone ;  but  when  I  tell  her  I  don't 
know,  I  wish  to  enjoy  the  unaccustomed  luxury  of  feeling,  for  once 
in  a  way,  that  I  am  speaking  the  truth  !" 

With  those  words,  he  opened  the  sitting-room  door,  introduced 
Noel  Vanstone  to  Magdalen's  presence,  bowed  himsebf  out  of  the 
room  again,  and  set  forth  alone  to  while  away  the  rest  of  the  after- 
noon by  taking  a  walk.  His  face  showed  plain  tokens  of  anxiety, 
and  his  party-colored  eyes  looked  hither  and  thither  distrustfully, 
as  he  sauntered  along  the  shore.  "  The  time  hangs  heavy  on  our 
hands,"  thought  the  captain.  "I  wish  to-morrow  was  come  and 
gone." 

The  day  passed,  and  nothing  happened ;  the  evening  and  the 
night  followed,  placidly  and  uneventfully.  Monday  came,  a  cloud- 
less, lovely  day  ;  Monday  confirmed  the  captain's  assertion  that  the 
marriage  was  a  certainty.  Toward  ten  o'clock,  the  clerk,  ascending 
the  church  steps,  quoted  the  old  proverb  to  the  pew-opener,  meeting 
him  under  the  porch :  "  Happy  the  bride  on  whom  the  sun  shines!" 

In  a  quarter  of  an  hour  more  the  wedding-party  was  in  the  vestry, 
and  the  clergyman  led  the  way  to  the  altar.  Carefully  as  the  secret 
of  the  marriage  had  been  kept,  the  opening  of  the  church  in  the 
morning  had  been  enough  to  betray  it.  A  small  congregation,  al- 
most entirely  composed  of  women,  were  scattered  here  and  there 
among  the  pews.  Kirke's  sister  and  her  children  were  staying  with 
a  friend  at  Aldborough,  and  Kirke's  sister  was  one  of  the  congre- 
gation. 

As  the  wedding-party  entered  the  church,  the  haunting  terror  of 
Mrs.  Lecount  spread  from  Noel  Vanstone  to  the  captain.  For  the 
first  few  minutes,  the  eyes  of  both  of  them  looked  among  the  wom- 
en in  the  pews  with  the  same  searching  scrutiny,  and  looked  away 
again  with  the  same  sense  of  relief.  The  clergyman  noticed  that 
look,  and  investigated  the  License  more  closely  than  usual.  The 
clerk  began  to  doubt  privately  whether  the  old  proverb  about  the 
bride  was  a  proverb  to  be  always  depended  on.     The  female  mem- 


NO   NAME.  427 

bers  of  the  congregation  murmured  among  themselves  at  the  inexcus- 
able disregard  of  appearances  implied  in  the  bride's  dress.  Kirke's 
sister  whispered  venomously  in  her  friend's  ear,  "  Thank  God  for  to- 
day for  Robert's  sake."  Mrs.  Wragge  cried  silently,  with  the  dread 
of  some  threatening  calamity  she  knew  not  what.  The  one  person 
present  who  remained  outwardly  undisturbed  was  Magdalen  herself. 
She  stood,  with  tearless  resignation,  in  her  place  before  the  altar— ^ 
stood,  as  if  all  the  sources  of  human  emotion  were  frozen  up  within 
her. 

The  clergyman  opened  the  Book. 

******* 

It  was  done.  The  awful  words  which  speak  from  earth  to  Heav- 
en were  pronounced.  The  children  of  the  two  dead  brothers — in- 
heritors of  the  implacable  enmity  which  had  parted  their  parents — 
were  Man  and- Wife. 

From  that  moment  events  hurried  with  a  headlong  rapidity  to 
Jhe  parting  scene.  They  were  back  at  the  house  while  the  words 
of  the  Marriage  Service  seemed  still  ringing  in  their  ears.  Before 
they  had  been  five  minutes  indoors  the  carriage  drew  up  at  the 
garden  gate.  In  a  minute  more  the  opportunity  came  for  which 
Magdalen  and  the  captain  had  been  on  the  watch — the  opportunity 
of  speaking  together  in  private  for  the  last  time.  She  still  pre- 
served her  icy  resignation ;  she  seemed  beyond  all  reach  now  of 
the  fear  that  had  once  mastered  her,  of  the  remorse  that  had  once 
tortured  her  to  the  soul.  With  a  firm  hand  she  gave  him  the  prom- 
ised money.  With  a  firm  face  she  looked  her  last  at  him.  "  I'm 
not  to  blame,"  he  whispered,  eagerly ;  "  I  have  only  done  what  you 
asked  me."  She  bowed  her  head ;  she  bent  it  toward  him  kindly, 
and  let  him  touch  her  forehead  with  his  lips.  "  Take  care  !"  he  said. 
"  My  last  words  are  —  for  God's  sake  take  care  when  I'm  gone !" 
She  turned  from  him  with  a  smile,  and  spoke  her  farewell  words  to 
his  wife.  Mrs.  Wragge  tried  hard  to  face  her  loss  bravely — the  loss 
of  the  friend  whose  presence  had  fallen  Uke  light  from  Heaven  over 
the  dim  pathway  of  her  life.  "  You  have  been  very  good  to  me,  my 
dear ;  I  thank  you  kindly  ;  I  thank  you  with  all  my  heart."  She 
could  say  no  more  ;  she  clung  to  Magdalen  in  a  passion  of  tears,  as 
her  mother  might  have  clung  to  her,  if  her  mother  had  lived  to  see 
that  horrible  day.  "  I'm  frightened  for  you  !"  cried  the  poor  crea- 
ture, in  a  wild,  wailing  voice.  "  Oh,  my  darling,  I'm  frightened  for 
you!"  Magdalen  desperately  drew  herself  free  —  kissed  her — and 
hurried  out  to  the  door.  The  expression  of  that  artless  gratitude, 
the  cry  of  that  guileless  love,  shook  her  as  nothing  else  had  shaken 
her  that  day.  It  was  a  refuge  to  get  to  the  carriage — a  refuge,  though 
the  man  she  had  married  stood  there  waiting  for  her  at  the  door. 

Mrs.  Wragge  tried  to  follow  her  into  the  garden.     But  the  cap- 


428  NO   NAME. 

tain  had  seen  Magdalen's  face  as  she  ran  out,  and  he  steadily  held 
his  wife  back  in  the  passage.  From  that  distance  the  last  farewells 
were  exchanged.  As  long  as  the  carriage  was  in  sight,  Magdalen 
looked  back  at  them ;  she  waved  her  handkerchief  as  she  turned 
the  corner.  In  a  moment  more  the  last  thread  which  bound  her 
to  them  was  broken ;  the  familiar  companionship  of  many  months 
was  a  thing  of  the  past  already  ! 

Captain  Wragge  closed  the  house  door  on  the  idlers  who  were 
looking  in  from  the  Parade.  He  led  his  wife  back  into  the  sitting- 
room,  and  spoke  to  her  with  a  forbearance  which  she  had  never  yet 
experienced  from  him. 

"  She  has  gone  her  way,"  he  said,  "  and  in  another  hour  we  shall 
have  gone  ours.  Cry  your  cry  out — I  don't  deny  she's  worth  crying 
for." 

Even  then — even  when  the  dread  of  Magdalen's  future  was  at  its 
darkest  in  his  mind — the  ruling  habit  of  the  man's  life  clung  to  him. 
Mechanically  he  unlocked  his  dispatch-box.  Mechanically  he  open- 
ed his  Book  of  Accounts,  and  made  the  closing  entry — the  entry  of 
his  last  transaction  with  Magdalen — in  black  and  white.  "  By  Recd 
from  Miss  Vanstone,"  wrote  the  captain,  with  a  gloomy  brow,  "  Two 
hundred  pounds." 

"  You  won't  be  angry  with  me  ?"  said  Mrs.  Wragge,  looking  tim- 
idly at  her  husband  through  her  tears.  "  I  want  a  word  of  comfort, 
captain.     Oh,  do  tell  me,  when  shall  I  see  her  again  ?" 

The  captain  closed  the  book,  and  answered  in  one  inexorable 
word : 

"  Never !" 

Between  eleven  and  twelve  o'clock  that  night  Mrs.  Lecount  drove 
into  Zurich. 

Her  brother's  house,  when  she  stopped  before  it,  was  shut  up. 
With  some  difficulty  and  delay  the  servant  was  aroused.  She  held 
up  her  hands  in  speechless  amazement  when  she  opened  the  door 
and  saw  who  the  visitor  was. 

"  Is  my  brother  alive  ?"  asked  Mrs.  Lecount,  entering  the  house. 

"  Alive  !"  echoed  the  servant.  "  He  has  gone  holiday-making  into 
the  country,  to  finish  his  recovery  in  the  fine  fresh  air." 

The  housekeeper  staggered  back  against  the  wall  of  the  passage. 
The  coachman  and  the  servant  put  her  into  a  chair.  Her  face  was 
livid,  and  her  teeth  chattered  in  her  head. 

"  Send  for  my  brother's  doctor,"  she  said,  as  soon  as  she  could 
speak. 

The  doctor  came.  She  handed  him  a  letter  before  he  could  say 
a  word. 

"  Did  you  write  that  letter  ?" 


NO   NAME.  429 

He  looked  it  over  rapidly,  and  answered  her  without  hesitation, 

"  Certainly  not !" 

"  It  is  your  handwriting." 

"  It  is  a  forgery  of  my  handwriting." 

She  rose  from  the  chair  with  a  new  strength  in  her. 

"  When  does  the  return  mail  start  for  Paris  ?"  she  asked. 

"  In  half  an  hour." 

"  Send  instantly  and  take  me  a  place  in  it  1" 

The  servant  hesitated,  the  doctor  protested.  She  turned  a  deaf 
ear  to  them  both. 

"  Send  !"  she  reiterated,  "  or  I  will  go  myself." 

They  obeyed.  The  servant  went  to  take  the  place  :  the  doctor 
remained,  and  held  a  conversation  with  Mrs.  Lecount.  When  the 
half-hour  had  passed,  he  helped  her  into  her  place  in  the  mail,  and 
charged  the  conductor  privately  to  take  care  of  his  passenger. 

"  She  has  traveled  from  England  without  stopping,"  said  the 
doctor  ;  "  and  she  is  traveling  back  again  without  rest.  Be  careful 
of  her,  or  she  will  break  down  under  the  double  journey." 

The  mail  started.  Before  the  first  hour  of  the  new  day  was  at  an 
end  Mrs.  Lecount  was  on  her  way  back  to  England. 

THE   END   OP   THE   FOURTH   SCENE. 


BETWEEN  THE  SCENES. 

PROGRESS  OF  THE  STORY  THROUGH  THE  POST. 


I. 

From  George  Bartram  to  Noel  Yanstone. 

"  St.  Crux,  September  4th,  1847. 

"  My  dear  Noel, — Here  are  two  plain  questions  at  starting.  In 
the  name  of  all  that  is  mysterious,  what  are  you  hiding  for  ?  And 
why  is  every  thing  relating  to  your  marriage  kept  an  impenetrable 
secret  from  your  oldest  friends  ? 

"  I  have  been  to  Aldborough  to  try  if  I  could  trace  you  from  that 
place,  and  have  come  back  as  wise  as  I  went.  I  have  applied  to 
your  lawyer  in  London,  and  have  been  told,  in  reply,  that  you  have 
forbidden  him  to  disclose  the  place  of  your  retreat  to  any  one  with- 
out rirst  receiving  your  permission  to  do  so.  All  I  could  prevail  on 
him  to  say  was,  that  he  would  forward  any  letter  which  might  be 
sent  to  his  care.  I  write  accordingly,  and,  mind  this,  I  expect  an 
answer. 


430  NO   NAME. 

"  You  may  ask,  in  your  ill-tempered  way,  what  business  I  have  to 
meddle  with  affairs  of  yours  which  it  is  your  pleasure  to  keep  pri- 
vate. My  dear  Noel,  there  is  a  serious  reason  for  our  opening  com- 
munications with  you  from  this  house.  You  don't  know  what  events 
have  taken  place  at  St.  Crux  since  you  ran  away  to  get  married ; 
and  though  I  detest  writing  letters,  I  must  lose  an  hour's  shoot- 
ing to-day  in  trying  to  enlighten  you. 

"  On  the  twenty-third  of  last  month,  the  admiral  and  I  were  dis- 
turbed over  our  wine  after  dinner  by  the  announcement  that  a  vis- 
itor had  unexpectedly  arrived  at  St.  Crux.  Who  do  you  think  the 
visitor  was  ?     Mrs.  Lecount ! 

"  My  uncle,  with  that  old-fashioned  bachelor  gallantry  of  his 
which  pays  equal  respect  to  all  wearers  of  petticoats,  left  the  table 
directly  to  welcome  Mrs.  Lecount.  While  I  was  debating  whether 
I  should  follow  him  or  not,  my  meditations  were  suddenly  brought 
to  an  end  by  a  loud  call  from  the  admiral.  I  ran  into  the  morning- 
room,  and  there  was  your  unfortunate  housekeeper  on  the  sofa, 
with  all  the  women-servants  about  her,  more  dead  than  alive.  She 
had  traveled  from  England  to  Zurich,  and  from  Zurich  back  again 
to  England,  without  stopping  ;  and  she  looked,  seriously  and  liter- 
ally, at  death's  door.  I  immediately  agreed  with  my  uncle  that  the 
first  thing  to  be  done  was  to  send  for  medical  help.  We  dispatched 
a  groom  on  the  spot,  and,  at  Mrs.  Lecount's  own  request,  sent  all  the 
servants  in  a  body  out  of  the  room. 

"  As  soon  as  we  were  alone,  Mrs.  Lecount  surprised  us  by  a  singu- 
lar question.  She  asked  if  you  had  received  a  letter  which  she  had 
addressed  to  you  before  leaving  England  at  this  house.  When  we 
told  her  that  the  letter  had  been  forwarded,  under  cover  to  your 
friend  Mr.  Bygrave,  by  your  own  particular  request,  she  turned  as 
pale  as  ashes ;  and  when  we  added  that  you  had  left  us  in  company 
with  this  same  Mr.  Bygrave,  she  clasped  her  hands  and  stared  at  us 
as  if  she  had  taken  leave  of  her  senses.  Her  next  question  was, 
'  Where  is  Mr.  Noel  now  V  We  could  only  give  her  one  reply — Mr. 
Noel  had  not  informed  us.  She  looked  perfectly  thunderstruck  at 
that  answer.  '  He  has  gone  to  his  ruin  ?'  she  said.  '  He  has  gone 
away  in  company  with  the  greatest  villain  in  England.  I  must  find 
him !  I  tell  you,  I  must  find  Mr.  Noel !  If  I  don't  find  him  at  once, 
it  will  be  too  late.  He  will  be  married !'  she  burst  out  quite  frantic- 
ally. '  On  my  honor  and  my  oath,  he  will  be  married  !'  The  ad- 
miral, incautiously  perhaps,  but  with  the  best  intentions,  told  her 
you  were  married  already.  She  gave  a  scream  that  made  the  win- 
dows ring  again,  and  dropped  back  on  the  sofa  in  a  fainting-fit. 
The  doctor  came  in  the  nick  of  time,  and  soon  brought  her  to. 
But  she  was  taken  ill  the  same  night ;  she  has  grown  worse  and 
worse  ever  since ;   and  the  last  medical  report  is,  that"  the  fever 


NO   NAME.  431 

ironi  which  she  has  been  suffering  is  in  a  fair  way  to  settle  on  her 
Drain , 

"  Now,  my  dear  Noel,  neither  my  uncle  nor  I  have  any  wish  to  in- 
trude ourselves  on  your  confidence.  We  are  naturally  astonished  at 
the  extraordinary  mystery  which  hangs  over  you  and  your  marriage, 
and  we  can  not  be  blind  to  the  fact  that  your  housekeeper  has, 
apparently,  some  strong  reason  of  her  own  for  viewing  Mrs.  Noel 
Vanstone  with  an  enmity  and  distrust  which  we  are  quite  ready  to 
believe  that  lady  has  done  nothing  to  deserve.  Whatever  strange 
misunderstanding  there  may  have  been  in  your  household,  is  your 
business  (if  you  choose  to  keep  it  to  yourself),  and  not  ours.  All 
we  have  any  right  to  do  is  to  tell  you  what  the  doctor  says.  His 
patient  has  been  delirious ;  he  declines  to  answer  for  her  life  if  she 
goes  on  as  she  is  going  on  now ;  and  he  thinks — finding  that  she  is 
perpetually  talking  of  her  master — that  your  presence  would  be  use- 
ful in  quieting  her,  if  you  could  come  here  at  once,  and  exert  your 
influence  before  it  is  too  late. 

"  What  do  you  say  ?  Will  you  emerge  from  the  darkness  that 
surrounds  you  and  come  to  St.  Crux  ?  If  this  was  the  case  of  an 
ordinary  servant,  I  could  understand  your  hesitating  to  leave  the 
delights  of  your  honey-moon  for  any  such  object  as  is  here  proposed 
to  you.  But,  my  dear  fellow,  Mrs.  Lecount  in  not  an  ordinary  serv- 
ant. You  are  under  obligations  to  her  fidelity  and  attachment  in 
your  father's  time,  as  well  as  in  your  own ;  and  if  you  can  quiet  the 
anxieties  which  seem  to  be  driving  this  unfortunate  woman  mad,  I 
really  think  you  ought  to  come  here  and  do  so.  Your  leaving  Mrs. 
Noel  Vanstone  is  of  course  out  of  the  question.  There  is  no  neces- 
sity for  any  such  hard-hearted  proceeding.  The  admiral  desires 
me  to  remind  you  that  he  is  your  oldest  friend  living,  and  that  his 
house  is  at  your  wife's  disposal,  as  it  has  always  been  at  yours.  In 
this  great  rambling-place  she  need  dread  no  near  association  with 
the  sick-room ;  and,  with  all  my  uncle's  oddities,  I  am  sure  she  will 
not  think  the  offer  of  his  friendship  an  offer  to  be  despised. 

"  Have  I  told  you  already  that  I  went  to  Aldborough  to  try  and 
find  a  clue  to  your  whereabouts  ?  I  can't  be  at  the  trouble  of  look- 
ing back  to  see ;  so,  if  I  have  told  you,  I  tell  you  again.  The  truth 
is,  I  made  an  acquaintance  at  Aldborough  of  whom  you  know  some- 
thing— at  least  by  report. 

"  After  applying  vainly  at  Sea  View,  I  went  to  the  hotel  to  in- 
quire about  you.  The  landlady  could  give  me  no  information;  but 
the  moment  I  mentioned  your  name,  she  asked  if  I  was  related  to 
you ;  and  when  I  told  her  I  was  your  cousin,  she  said  there  was  a 
young  lady  then  at  the  hotel  whose  name  was  Vanstone  also,  who 
was  in  great  distress  about  a  missing  relative,  and  who  might  prove 
of  some  use  to  me — or  I  to  her — if  we  knew  of  each  other's  errand 


432  NO   NAME. 

at  Aldborough.  I  had  not  the  least  idea  who  she  was,  but  I  sen*  in 
my  card  at  a  venture ;  and  in  five  minutes  afterward  I  found  mvself 
in  the  presence  of  one  of  the  most  charming  women  these  eyes  ever 
looked  on. 

"  Our  first  words  of  explanation  informed  me  that  my  family 
name  was  known  to  her  by  repute.  Who  do  you  think  she  was  ? 
The  eldest  daughter  of  my  uncle  and  yours — Andrew  Vanstone.  I 
had  often  heard  my  poor  mother  in  past  years  speak  of  her  brother 
Andrew,  and  I  knew  of  that  sad  story  at  Combe-Raven.  But  our 
families,  as  you  are  aware,  had  always  been  estranged,  and  I  had 
never  seen  my  charming  cousin  before.  She  has  the  dark  eyes  and 
hair,  and  the  gentle  retiring  manners  that  I  always  admire  in  a 
woman.  I  don't  want  to  renew  our  old  disagreement  about  your 
father's  conduct  to  those  two  sisters,  or  to  deny  that  his  brother 
Andrew  may  have  behaved  badly  to  him;  I  am  willing  to  admit 
that  the  high  moral  position  he  took  in  the  matter  is  quite  unas- 
sailable by  such  a  miserable  sinner  as  I  am ;  and  I  will  not  dispute 
that  my  own  spendthrift  habits  incapacitate  me  from  offering  any 
opinion  on  the  conduct  of  other  people's  pecuniary  affairs.  But, 
with  all  these  allowances  and  drawbacks,  I  can  tell  you  one  thing, 
Noel.  If  you  ever  see  the  elder  Miss  Vanstone,  I  venture  to  proph- 
esy that,  for  the  first  time  in  your  life,  you  will  doubt  the  propriety 
of  following  your  father's  example. 

"  She  told  me  her  little  story,  poor  thing,  most  simply  and  unaf- 
fectedly. She  is  now  occupying  her  second  situation  as  a  governess 
— and,  as  usual,  I,  who  know  every  body,  know  the  family.  They 
are  friends  of  my  uncle's,  whom  he  has  lost  sight  of  latterly — the 
Tyrrels  of  Portland  Place — and  they  treat  Miss  Vanstone  with  as 
much  kindness  and  consideration  as  if  she  was  a  member  of  the 
family.  One  of  their  old  servants  accompanied  her  to  Aldborough, 
her  object  in  traveling  to  that  place  being  what  the  landlady  of  the 
hotel  had  stated  it  to  be.  The  family  reverses  have,  it  seems,  had 
a  serious  effect  on  Miss  Vanstone's  younger  sister,  who  has  left  her 
friends,  and  who  has  been  missing  from  home  for  some  time.  She 
had  been  last  heard  of  at  Aldborough ;  and  her  elder  sister,  on  her 
return  from  the  Continent  with  the  Tyrrels,  had  instantly  set  out  to 
make  inquiries  at  that  place. 

"  This  was  all  Miss  Vanstone  told  me.  She  asked  whether  you 
had  seen  any  tiling  of  her  sister,  or  whether  Mrs.  Lecount  knew  any 
thing  of  her  sister — I  suppose  because  she  was  aware  you  had  been 
at  Aldborough.  Of  course  I  could  tell  her  nothing.  She  entered 
into  no  details  on  the  subject,  and  I  could  not  presume  to  ask  her  for 
any.  All  I  did  was  to  set  to  work  with  might  and  main  to  assist 
her  inquiries.  The  attempt  was  an  utter  failure  ;  nobody  could  give 
us  any  information.     We  tried  personal  description  of  course  ;  and, 


NO   NAME.  433 

strange  to  say,  the  only  young  lady  formerly  staying  at  Aldborough 
who  answered  the  description  was,  of  all  the  people  in  the  world, 
the  lady  you  have  married !  If  she  had  not  had  an  uncle  and  aunt 
(both  of  whom  have  left  the  place),  I  should  have  begun  to  suspect 
that  you  had  married  your  cousin  without  knowing  it !  Is  this  the 
clue  to  the  mystery  ?  Don't  be  angry ;  I  must  have  my  little  joke, 
and  I  can't  help  writing  as  carelessly  as  I  talk.  The  end  of  it  was, 
our  inquiries  were  all  baffled,  and  I  traveled  back  with  Miss  Van- 
stone  and  her  attendant  as  far  as  our  station  here.  I  think  I  shall 
call  on  the  Tyrrels  when  I  am  next  in  London.  I  have  certainly 
treated  that  family  with  the  most  inexcusable  neglect. 

"  Here  I  am  at  the  end  of  my  third  sheet  of  note-paper  !  I  don't 
often  take  the  pen  in  hand  ;  but  when  I  do,  you  will  agree  with  me 
that  I  am  in  no  hurry  to  lay  it  aside  again.  Treat  the  rest  of  my 
letter  as  you  like,  but  consider  what  I  have  told  you  about  Mrs.  Le- 
count,  and  remember  that  time  is  of  consequence. 

"  Ever  yours,  George  Bartram." 

II. 

From,  Norali  Veinstone  to  Miss  Garth. 

"Portland  Place. 

"  My  dear  Miss  Garth, — More  sorrow,  more  disappointment ! 
I  have  just  returned  from  Aldborough,  without  making  any  discov- 
ery.    Magdalen  is  still  lost  to  us. 

"  I  can  not  attribute  this  new  overthrow  of  my  hopes  to  any  want 
of  perseverance  or  penetration  in  making  the  necessary  inquiries. 
My  inexperience  in  such  matters  was  most  kindly  and  unexpectedly 
assisted  by  Mr.  George  Bartram.  By  a  strange  coincidence,  he  hap- 
pened to  be  at  Aldborough,  inquiring  after  Mr.  Noel  Vanstone,  at 
the  very  time  when  I  was  there  inquiring  after  Magdalen.  He  sent 
in  his  card,  and  knowing,  when  I  looked  at  the  name,  that  he  was 
my  cousin — if  I  may  call  him  so — I  thought  there  would  be  no  im- 
propriety in  my  seeing  him  and  asking  his  advice.  I  abstained  from 
entering  into  particulars  for  Magdalen's  sake,  and  I  made  no  allusion 
to  that  letter  of  Mrs.  Lecount's  which  you  answered  for  me.  I  only 
told  him  Magdalen  was  missing,  and  had  been  last  heard  of  at  Ald- 
borough. The  kindness  which  he  showed  in  devoting  himself  to 
my  assistance  exceeds  all  description.  He  treated  me,  in  my  forlorn 
situation,  with  a  delicacy  and  respect  wiiich  I  shall  remember  grate- 
fully long  after  he  has  himself  perhaps  forgotten  our  meeting  alto- 
gether. He  is  quite  young — not  more  than  thirty,  I  should  think. 
In  face  and  figure,  he  reminded  me  a  little  of  the  portrait  of  my  fa- 
ther at  Combe-Raven — I  mean  the  portrait  in  the  dining-room,  of 
my  father  when  he  was  a  young  man. 


434  NO   NAME. 

"  Useless  as  our  inquiries  were,  there  is  one  result  of  them  which 
has  left  a  very  strange  and  shocking  impression  on  my  mind. 

"  It  appears  that  Mr.  Noel  Vanstone  has  lately  married,  under 
mysterious  circumstances,  a  young  lady  whom  he  met  with  at  Aid- 
borough,  named  Bygrave.  He  has  gone  away  with  his  wife,  telling 
nobody  but  his  lawyer  where  he  has  gone  to.  This  I  heard  from 
Mr.  George  Bartram,  who  was  endeavoring  to  trace  him,  for  the 
purpose  of  communicating  the  news  of  his  housekeeper's  serious 
illness — the  housekeeper  being  the  same  Mrs.  Lecount  whose  letter 
you  answered.  So  far,  you  may  say,  there  is  nothing  which  need 
particularly  interest  either  of  us.  But  I  think  you  will  be  as  much 
surprised  as  I  was  when  I  tell  you  that  the  description  given  by  the 
people  at  Aldborough  of  Miss  Bygrave's  appearance  is  most  start- 
lingly  and  unaccountably  like  the  description  of  Magdalen's  ap- 
pearance. This  discovery,  taken  in  connection  with  all  the  circum- 
stances we  know  of,  has  had  an  effect  on  my  mind  which  I  can  not 
describe  to  you — which  I  dare  not  realize  to  myself.  Pray  come 
and  see  me !  I  have  never  felt  so  wretched  about  Magdalen  as  I 
feel  now.  Suspense  must  have  weakened  my  nerves  in  some  strange 
way.  I  feel  superstitious  about  the  slightest  things.  This  acci- 
dental resemblance  of  a  total  stranger  to  Magdalen  fills  me  every 
now  and  then  with  the  most  horrible  misgivings — merely  because 
Mr.  Noel  Vanstone's  name  happens  to  be  mixed  up  with  it.  Once 
more,  pray  come  to  me ;  I  have  so  much  to  say  to  yoU  that  I  can 
not,  and  dare  not,  say  in  writing. 

"  Gratefully  and  affectionately  yours,  Norah." 

III. 

From  Mr.  John  Loscombe  {Solicitor)  to  George  Bartram,  Esq. 

"  Lincoln's  Inn,  London,  September  6th,  1847. 

"  Sir, — I  beg  to  acknowledge  the  receipt  of  your  note,  inclosing  a 
letter  addressed  to  my  client,  Mr.  Noel  Vanstone,  and  requesting 
that  I  will  forward  the  same  to  Mr.  Vanstone's  present  address. 

"  Since  I  last  had  the  pleasure  of  communicating  with  you  on  this 
subject,  my  position  toward  my  client  is  entirely  altered.  Three 
days  ago  I  received  a  letter  from  him,  which  stated  his  intention  of 
changing  his  place  of  residence  on  the  next  day  then  ensuing,  but 
which  left  me  entirely  in  ignorance  on  the  subject  of  the  locality  to 
which  it  was  his  intention  to  remove.  I  have  not  heard  from  him 
since ;  and,  as  he  had  previously  drawn  on  me  for  a  larger  sum  of 
money  than  usual,  there  would  be  no  present  necessity  for  his  writ- 
ing to  me  again — assuming  that  it  is  his  wish  to  keep  his  place  of 
residence  concealed  from  every  one,  myself  included. 

"  Under  these  circumstances,  I  think  it  right  to  return  you  your 


NO    NAME.  435 

letter,  with  the  assurance  that  I  will  let  you  know,  if  I  happen  to  be 
again  placed  in  a  position  to  forward  it  to  its  destinatiou. 

"  Your  obedient  servant,  John  Loscombe." 

IV. 

From  Norah  Veinstone  to  Miss  Garth. 

"Portland  Place. 

"  My  dear  Miss  Garth, — Forget  the  letter  I  wrote  to  you  yes- 
terday, and  all  the  gloomy  forebodings  that  it  contains.  This  morn- 
ing's post  has  brought  new  life  to  me.  I  have  just  received  a  letter, 
addressed  to  me  at  your  house,  and  forwarded  here,  in  your  absence 
from  home  yesterday,  by  your  sister.  Can  you  guess  who  the  writer 
is  ? — Magdalen ! 

"  The  letter  is  very  short ;  it  seems  to  have  been  written  in  a 
hurry.  She  says  she  has  been  dreaming  of  me  for  some  nights  past, 
and  the  dreams  have  made  her  fear  that  her  long  silence  has  caused 
me  more  distress  on  her  account  than  she  is  worth.  She  writes, 
therefore,  to  assure  me  that  she  is  safe  and  well — that  she  hopes  to 
see  me  before  long — and  that  she  has  something  to  tell  me,  when 
we  meet,  which  will  try  my  sisterly  love  for  her  as  riothing  has  tried 
it  yet.  The  letter  is  not  dated ;  but  the  postmark  is  'Allonby,'  which 
I  have  found,  on  referring  to  the  Gazetteer,  to  be  a  little  sea-side 
place  in  Cumberland.  There  is  no  hope  of  my  being  able  to  write 
back,  for  Magdalen  expressly  says  that  she  is  on  the  eve  of  depart- 
ure from  her  present  residence,  and  that  she  is  not  at  liberty  to  say 
where  she  is  going  to  next,  or  to  leave  instructions  for  forwarding 
any  letters  after  her. 

"  In  happier  times,  I  should  have  thought  this  letter  very  far  from 
being  a  satisfactory  one,  and  I  should  have  been  seriously  alarmed 
by  that  allusion  to  a  future  confidence  on  her  part  which  will  try 
my  love  for  her  as  nothing  has  tried  it  yet.  But  after  all  the  sus- 
pense I  have  suffered,  the  happiness  of  seeing  her  handwriting 
again  seems  to  fill  my  heart,  and  to  keep  all  other  feelings  out  of  it. 
I  don't  send  you  her  letter,  because  I  know  you  are  coming  to  me 
soon,  and  I  want  to  have  the  pleasure  of  seeing  you  read  it. 

"  Ever  affectionately  yours,  Norah. 

"  P.S. — Mr.  George  Bartram  called  on  Mrs.  Tyrrel  to-day.  He  in- 
sisted on  being  introduced  to  the  children.  When  he  was  gone, 
Mrs.  Tyrrel  laughed  in  her  good-humored  way,  and  said  that  his 
anxiety  to  see  the  children  looked,  to  her  mind,  very  much  like  an 
anxiety  to  see  me.  You  may  imagine  how  my  spirits  are  improved 
when  I  can  occupy  my  pen  in  writing  such  nonsense  as  this  !" 


436  NO   NAME. 

V. 

From  Mrs.  Lecount  to  Mr.  de  Bleriot,  General  Agent,  London. 

"  St.  Crux,  October  23d,  1847. 

"  Deak  Sir, — I  have  been  long  in  thanking  you  for  the  kind  let- 
ter which  promises  me  your  assistance,  in  friendly  remembrance  of 
the  commercial  relations  formerly  existing  between  my  brother  and 
yourself.  The  truth  is,  I  have  overtasked  my  strength  on  my  recov- 
ery from  a  long  and  dangerous  illness ;  and  for  the  last  ten  days  I 
have  been  suffering  under  a  relapse.  I  am  now  better  again,  and 
able  to  enter  on  the  business  which  you  so  kindly  offer  to  under- 
take for  me. 

"  The  person  whose  present  place  of  abode  it  is  of  the  utmost  im- 
portance to  me  to  discover  is  Mr.  Noel  Vanstone.  I  have  lived,  for 
many  years  past,  in  this  gentleman's  service  as  housekeeper ;  and 
not  having  received  my  formal  dismissal,  I  consider  myself  in  his 
service  still.  During  my  absence  on  the  Continent,  he  was  private- 
ly married  at  Aldborough,  in  Suffolk,  on  the  eighteenth  of  August 
last.  He  left  Aldborough  the  same  day,  taking  his  wife  with  him 
to  some  place  of  retreat  which  was  kept  a  secret  from  every  body 
except  his  lawyer,  Mr.  Loscombe,  of  Lincoln's  Inn.  After  a  short 
time  he  again  removed,  on  the  4th  of  September,  without  informing 
Mr.  Loscombe,  on  this  occasion,  of  his  new  place  of  abode.  From 
that  date  to  this,  the  lawyer  has  remained  (or  has  pretended  to  re- 
main) in  total  ignorance  of  where  he  now  is.  Application  has  been 
made  to  Mr.  Loscombe,  under  the  circumstances,  to  mention  what 
that  former  place  of  residence  was,  of  which  Mr.  Vanstone  is  known 
to  have  informed  him.  Mr.  Loscombe  has  declined  acceding  to  this 
request,  for  want  of  formal  permission  to  disclose  his  client's  pro- 
ceedings after  leaving  Aldborough.  I  have  all  these  latter  particu- 
lars from  Mr.  Loscombe's  correspondent — the  nephew  of  the  gentle- 
man who  owns  this  house,  and  whose  charity  has  given  me  an  asy- 
lum, during  the  heavy  affliction  of  my  sickness,  under  his  own  roof. 

"  I  believe  the  reasons  which  have  induced  Mr.  Noel  Vanstone  to 
keep  himself  and  his  wife  in  hiding  are  reasons  which  relate  entire- 
ly to  myself.  In  the  first  place,  he  is  aware  that  the  circumstances 
under  which  he  has  married  are  such  as  to  give  me  the  right  of  re- 
garding him  with  a  just  indignation.  In  the  second  place,  he  knows 
that  my  faithful  services,  rendered  through  a  period  of  twenty  years, 
to  his  father  and  to  himself,  forbid  him,  in  common  decency,  to  cast 
me  out  helpless  on  the  world  without  a  provision  for  the  end  of  my 
life.  He  is  the  meanest  of  living  men,  and  his  wife  is  the  vilest  of 
living  women.  As  long  as  he  can  avoid  fulfilling  his  obligations  to 
me,  he  will ;  and  his  wife's  encouragement  may  be  trusted  to  fortify 
him  in  his  ingratitude. 


NO    NAME.  437 

"  My  object  in  determining  to  find  him  out  is  briefly  this.  His 
marriage  lias  exposed  him  to  consequences  which  a  man  of  ten 
times  his  courage  could  not  face  without  shrinking.  Of  those  con- 
sequences he  knows  nothing.  His  wife  knows,  and  keeps  him  in 
ignorance.  I  know,  and  can  enlighten  him.  His  security  from  the 
danger  that  threatens  him  is  in  my  hands  alone ;  and  he  shall  pay 
the  price  of  his  rescue  to  the  last  farthing  of  the  debt  that  justice 
■claims  for  me  as  my  due — no  more,  and  no  less. 

"I  have  now  laid  my  mind  before  you,  as  you  told  me,  without 
reserve.  You  know  why  I  want  to  find  this  man,  and  what  I  mean 
to  do  when  I  find  him.  I  leave  it  to  your  sympathy  for  me  to 
answer  the  serious  question  that  remains  :  How  is  the  discovery  to 
be  made  ?  If  a  first  trace  of  them  can  be  found,  after  their  departure 
from  Aldborough,  I  believe  careful  inquiry  will  suffice  for  the  rest. 
The  personal  appearance  of  the  wife,  and  the  extraordinary  contrast 
between  her  husband  and  herself,  are  certain  to  be  remarked,  and 
remembered,  by  every  stranger  who  sees  them. 

"  When  you  favor  me  with  your  answer,  please  address  it  to 
'  Care  of  Admiral  Bartram,  St.  Crux-in-the-Marsh,  near  Ossory,  Es- 
sex.    Your  much  obliged,  Virgenie  Lecount." 

VI. 

From  Mr.  de  Bleriot  to  Mrs.  Lecount. 

"  Dark's  Buildings,  Kingsland, 
*  Private  and  Confidential.  "  October  25th,  1S47. 

"  Dear  Madam, — I  hasten  to  reply  to  your  favor  of  Saturday's 
date.  Circumstances  have  enabled  me  to  forward  your  interests,  by 
consulting  a  friend  of  mine  possessing  great  experience  in  the  man- 
agement of  private  inquiries  of  all  sorts.  I  have  placed  your  case 
before  him  (without  mentioning  names) ;  and  I  am  happy  to  inform 
you  that  my  views  and  his  views  of  the  proper  course  to  take  agree 
in  eveiy  particular. 

"  Both  myself  and  friend,  then,  are  of  opinion  that  little  or  noth- 
ing can  be  done  toward  tracing  the  parties  you  mention,  until  the 
place  of  their  temporary  residence  after  they  left  Aldborough  has 
been  discovered  first.  If  this  can  be  done,  the  sooner  it  is  done  the 
better.  Judging  from  your  letter,  some  weeks  must  have  passed 
since  the  lawyer  received  his  information  that  they  had  shifted  their 
quarters.  As  they  are  both  remarkable-looking  people,  the  strangers 
who  may  have  assisted  them  on  their  travels  have  probably  not  for- 
gotten them  yet.     Nevertheless,  expedition  is  desirable. 

"  The  question  for  you  to  consider  is,  whether  they  may  not  pos- 
sibly have  communicated  the  address  of  which  we  stand  in  need  to 
some  other  person  besides  the  lawyer.  The  husband  may  have 
written  to  members  of  his  family,  or  the  wife  may  have  written  to 


438  NO    NAME. 

members  of  her  family.  Both  myself  and  friend  are  of  opinion  that 
the  latter  chance  is  the  likeliest  of  the  two.  If  you  have  any  means 
of  access  in  the  direction  of  the  wife's  family,  we  strongly  recom- 
mend you  to  make  use  of  them.  If  not,  please  supply  us  with  the 
names  of  any  of  her  near  relations  or  intimate  female  friends  whom 
you  know,  and  we  will  endeavor  to  get  access  for  you. 

"  In  any  case,  we  request  you  will  at  once  favor  us  with  the  most 
exact  personal  description  that  can  be  written  of  both  the  parties. 
We  may  require  your  assistance,  in  this  important  particular,  at  five 
minutes'  notice.  Favor  us,  therefore,  with  the  description  by  return 
of  post.  In  the  mean  time,  we  will  endeavor  to  ascertain  on  our 
side  whether  any  information  is  to  be  privately  obtained  at  Mr.  Los- 
combe's  office.  The  lawyer  himself  is  probably  altogether  beyond 
our  reach.  But  if  any  one  of  his  clerks  can  be  advantageously 
treated  with  on  such  terms  as  may  not  overtax  your  pecuniary  re- 
sources, accept  my  assurance  that  the  opportunity  shall  be  made 
the  most  of  by,  dear  madam,  your  faithful  servant, 

"Alfred  de  Bleriot." 

VII. 

From  Mr.  Pendril  to  Norah  Vanstone. 

"  Serle  Street,  October  27th,  1847. 

"My  dear  Miss  Vanstone,— A  lady  named  Lecount  (formerly 
attached  to  Mr.  Noel  Vanstone's  service  in  the  capacity  of  house- 
keeper) has  called  at  my  office  this  morning,  and  has  asked  me  to 
furnish  her  with  your  address.  I  have  begged  her  to  excuse  my 
immediate  compliance  with  her  request,  and  to  favor  me  with  a  call 
to-morrow  morning,  when  I  shall  be  prepared  to  meet  her  with  a 
definite  answer. 

"  My  hesitation  in  this  matter  does  not  proceed  from  any  distrust 
of  Mrs.  Lecount  personally,  for  I  know  nothing  whatever  to  her  prej- 
udice. But  in  making  her  request  to  me,  she  stated  that  the  object 
of  the  desired  interview  was  to  speak  to  you  privately  on  the  sub- 
ject of  your  sister.  Forgive  me  for  acknowledging  that  I  deter- 
mined to  withhold  the  address  as  soon  as  I  heard  this.  You  will 
make  allowances  for  your  old  friend,  and  your  sincere  well-wisher  ? 
You  will  not  take  it  amiss  if  I  express  my  strong  disapproval  of 
your  allowing  yourself,  on  any  pretense  whatever,  to  be  mixed  up 
for  the  future  with  your  sister's  proceedings. 

"  I  will  not  distress  you  by  saying  more  than  this.  But  I  feel  too 
deep  an  interest  in  your  welfare,  and  too  sincere  an  admiration  of 
the  patience  with  which  you  have  borne  all  your  trials,  to  say  less. 

"  If  I  can  not  prevail  on  you  to  follow  my  advice,  you  have  only 
to  say  so,  and  Mrs.  Lecount  shall  have  your  address  to-morrow.  In 
this  case  (which  I  can  not  contemplate  without  the  greatest  unwill* 


NO   NAME.  439 

ingness),  let  me  at  least  recommend  you  to  stipulate  that  Miss  Garth 
shall  be  present  at  the  interview.  In  any  matter  with  which  your 
sister  is  concerned,  you  may  want  an  old  friend's  advice,  and  an  old 
friend's  protection  against  your  own  generous  impulses.  If  I  could 
have  helped  you  in  this  way,  I  would ;  but  Mrs.  Lecount  gave  me 
indirectly  to  understand  that  the  subject  to  be  discussed  was  of  too 
delicate  a  nature  to  permit  of  my  presence.  Whatever  this  objec- 
tion may  be  really  worth,  it  can  not  apply  to  Miss  Garth,  who  has 
brought  you  both  up  from  childhood.  I  say,  again,  therefore,  if  you 
see  Mrs.  Lecount,  see  her  in  Miss  Garth's  company. 

"  Always  most  truly  yours,  William  Pendril." 

vni. 

From  Norah  Vanstone  to  Mr.  Pendril. 

"Portland  Place,  Wednesday. 

"  Dear  Mr.  Pendril, — Pray  don't  think  I  am  ungrateful  for  your 
kindness.  Indeed,  indeed  I  am  not !  But  I  must  see  Mrs.  Lecount. 
You  were  not  aware  when  you  wrote  to  me  that  I  had  received  a 
few  lines  from  Magdalen — not  telling  me  where  she  is,  but  holding 
out  the  hope  of  our  meeting  before  long.  Perhaps  Mrs.  Lecount 
may  have  something  to  say  to  me  on  this  very  subject.  Even  if  it 
should  not  be  so,  my  sister — do  what  she  may — is  still  my  sister.  I 
can't  desert  her ;  I  can't  turn  my  back  on  any  one  who  comes  to 
me  in  her  name.  You  know,  dear  Mr.  Pendril,  I  have  always  been 
obstinate  on  this  subject,  and  you  have  always  borne  with  me.  Let 
me  owe  another  obligation  to  you  which  I  can  never  return,  and 
bear  with  me  still ! 

"Need  I  say  that  I  willingly  accept  that  part  of  your  advice 
which  refers  to  Miss  Garth  ?  I  have  already  written  to  beg  that 
she  will  come  here  at  four  to-morrow  afternoon.  When  you  see 
Mrs.  Lecount,  please  inform  her  that  Miss  Garth  will  be  with  me, 
and  that  she  will  find  us  both  ready  to  receive  her  here  to-morrow 
at  four  o'clock. 

"  Gratefully  yours,  Norah  Vanstone." 

IX. 

From  Mr.  de  Bleriot  to  Mrs.  Lecount. 
"Private.  "Dark's  Buildings,  October  2Sth. 

"  Dear  Madam, — One  of  Mr.  Loscombe's  clerks  has  proved  ame- 
nable to  a  small  pecuniary  consideration,  and  has  mentioned  a  cir- 
cumstance which  it  may  be  of  some  importance  to  you  to  know. 

"Nearly  a  month  since,  accident  gave  the  clerk  in  question  an 
opportunity  of  looking  into  one  of  the  documents  on  his  master's 
table,  which  had  attracted  his  attention  from  a  slight  peculiarity  in 
the  form  and  color  of  the  paper.     He  had  only  time,  during  Mr. 


440  NO  NAME. 

Loscombe's  momentary  absence,  to  satisfy  his  curiosity  by  looking 
at  the  beginning  of  the  document  and  at  the  end.  At  the  begin- 
ning he  saw  the  customary  form  used  in  making  a  will ;  at  the  end 
he  discovered  the  signature  of  Mr.  Noel  Vanstone,  with  the  names 
of  two  attesting  witnesses,  and  the  date  (of  which  he  is  quite  cer- 
tain)— the,  thirtieth  of  September  last. 

"  Before  the  clerk  had  time  to  make  any  further  investigations, 
his  master  returned,  sorted  the  papers  on  the  table,  and  carefully 
locked  up  the  will  in  the  strong-box  devoted  to  the  custody  of  Mr. 
Noel  Vanstone's  documents.  It  has  been  ascertained  that,  at  the 
close  of  September,  Mr.  Loscombe  was  absent  from  the  office.  If  he 
was  then  employed  in  superintending  the  execution  of  his  client's 
will — which  is  quite  possible — it  follows  clearly  that  he  was  in  the 
secret  of  Mr.  Vanstone's  address  after  the  removal  of  the  4th  of  Sep- 
tember ;  and  if  you  can  do  nothing  on  your  side,  it  may  be  desira- 
ble to  have  the  lawyer  watched  on  ours.  In  any  case,  it  is  certainly 
ascertained  that  Mr.  Noel  Vanstone  has  made  his  will  since  his  mar- 
riage. I  leave  you  to  draw  your  own  conclusions  from  that  fact, 
and  remain,  in  the  hope  of  hearing  from  you  shortly, 

"  Your  faithful  servant,  Alfred  de  Bleriot." 

X. 

From  Miss  Garth  to  Mr.  Pendril. 

"  Portland  Place,  October  28th. 

"My  dear  Sir, — Mrs.  Lecount  has  just  left  us.  If  it  was  not  too 
late  to  wish,  I  should  wish,  from  the  bottom  of  my  heart,  that  Norah 
had  taken  your  advice,  and  had  refused  to  see  her. 

"I  write  in  such  distress  of  mind  that  I  can  not  hope  to  give  you 
a  clear  and  complete  account  of  the  interview.  I  can  only  tell  you 
briefly  what  Mrs.  Lecount  has  done,  and  what  our  situation  now  is. 
The  rest  must  be  left  until  I  am  more  composed,  and  until  I  can 
speak  to  you  personally. 

"  You  will  remember  my  informing  you  of  the  letter  which  Mrs. 
Lecount  addressed  to  Norah  from  Aldborough,  and  which  I  answer- 
ed for  her  in  her  absence.  When  Mrs.  Lecount  made  her  appear- 
ance to-day,  her  first  words  announced  to  us  that  she  had  come  to 
renew  the  subject.  As  well  as  I  can  remember  it,  this  is  what  she 
said,  addressing  herself  to  Norah : 

'"I  wrote  to  you  on  the  subject  of  your  sister,  Miss  Vanstone, 
some  little  time  since,  and  Miss  Garth  was  so  good  as  to  answer  the 
letter.  What  I  feared  at  that  time  has  come  true.  Your  sister  has 
defied  all  my  efforts  to  check  her ;  she  has  disappeared  in  company 
with  my  master,  Mr.  Noel  Vanstone ;  and  she  is  now  in  a  position 
of  danger  which  may  lead  to  her  disgrace  and  ruin  at  a  moment's 
notice.     It  is  my  interest  to  recover  my  master,  it  is  your  interest  tc 


NO   NAME.  441 

save  your  sister.  Tell  me — for  time  is  precious — have  you  any  newg 
of  her?' 

"  Norah  answered,  as  well  as  her  terror  and  distress  would  allow 
her,  '  I  have  had  a  letter,  but  there  was  no  address  on  it.' 

"  Mrs.  Lecount  asked, '  Was  there  no  postmark  on  the  envelope  V 

"Norah  said,  'Yes;  Allonby.' 

"  '  Allonby  is  better  than  nothing,'  said  Mrs.  Lecount.  '  Allonby 
may  help  you  to  trace  her.     Where  is  Allonby  V 

"  Norah  told  her.  It  all  passed  in  a  minute.  I  had  been  too 
much  confused  and  startled  to  interfere  before,  but  I  composed  my- 
self sufficiently  to  interfere  now. 

"  '  You  have  entered  into  no  particulars,'  I  said.  '  You  have  only 
frightened  us — you  have  told  us  nothing.' 

"  '  You  shall  hear  the  particulars,  ma'am,'  said  Mrs.  Lecount ;  '  and 
you  and  Miss  Vanstone  shall  judge  for  yourselves,  if  I  have  frighten- 
ed you  without  a  cause.' 

"  Upon  this,  she  entered  at  once  upon  a  long  narrative,  which  I 
can  not — I  might  almost  say,  which  I  dare  not — repeat.  You  will 
understand  the  horror  we  both  felt  when  I  tell  you  the  end.  If  Mrs. 
Lecount's  statement  is  to  be  relied  on,  Magdalen  has  carried  her 
mad  resolution  of  recovering  her  father's  fortune  to  the  last  and 
most  desperate  extremity — she  has  married  Michael  Vanstone's  son 
under  a  false  name.  Her  husband  is  at  this  moment  still  persuaded 
that  her  maiden  name  was  Bygrave,  and  that  she  is  really  the  niece 
of  a  scoundrel  who  assisted  her  imposture,  and  whom  I  recognize, 
by  the  description  of  him,  to  have  been  Captain  Wragge. 

"  I  spare  you  Mrs.  Lecount's  cool  avowal,  when  she  rose  to  leave 
us,  of  her  own  mercenary  motives  in  wishing  to  discover  her  master 
and  to  enlighten  him.  I  spare  you  the  hints  she  dropped  of  Mag- 
dalen's purpose  in  contracting  this  infamous  marriage.  The  one 
aim  and  object  of  my  letter  is  to  implore  you  to  assist  me  in  quiet- 
ing Norah's  anguish  of  mind.  The  shock  she  has  received  at  hear- 
ing this  news  of  her  sister  is  not  the  worst  result  of  what  has  hap- 
pened. She  has  persuaded  herself  that  the  answers  she  innocently 
gave,  in  her  distress  to  Mrs.  Lecount's  questions  on  the  subject  of 
her  letter — the  answers  wrung  from  her  under  the  sudden  pressure 
of  confusion  and  alarm  —  may  be  used  to  Magdalen's  prejudice  by 
the  woman  who  purposely  startled  her  into  giving  the  information. 
I  can  only  prevent  her  from  taking  some  desperate  step  on  her  side 
— some  step  by  which  she  may  forfeit  the  friendship  and  protection 
of  the  excellent  people  with  whom  she  is  now  living — by  reminding 
her  that  if  Mrs.  Lecount  traces  her  master  by  means  of  the  post- 
mark on  the  letter,  we  may  trace  Magdalen  at  the  same  time,  and 
by  the  same  means.  Whatever  objection  you  may  personally  feel 
to  renewing  the  efforts  for  the  rescue  of  this  miserable  srirl  which 


442  NO   NAME. 

failed  so  lamentably  at  York,  I  entreat  you,  for  Norah's  sake,  to 
take  the  same  steps  now  which  we  took  then.  Send  me  the  only 
assurance  which  will  quiet  her  —  the  assurance,  under  your  own 
hand,  that  the  search  on  our  side  has  begun.  If  you  will  do  this, 
you  may  trust  me,  when  the  time  comes,  to  stand  between  these  two 
sisters,  and  to  defend  Norah's  peace,  character,  and  future  prosper- 
ity at  any  price. 

"  Most  sincerely  yours,  Harriet  Garth." 

XI. 

From  Mrs.  Lecount  to  Mr.  de  Bleriot. 

"  October  28th. 

"  Dear  Sir, — I  have  found  the  trace  you  wanted.  Mrs.  Noel 
Vanstone  has  written  to  her  sister.  The  letter  contains  no  address, 
but  the  postmark  is  Allonby,  in  Cumberland.  From  Allonby,  there- 
fore, the  inquiries  must  begin.  You  have  already  in  your  possession 
the  personal  description  of  both  husband  and  wife.  I  urgently  rec- 
ommend you  not  to  lose  one  unnecessary  moment.  If  it  is  possible 
to  send  to  Cumberland  immediately  on  receipt  of  this  letter,  I  beg 
you  will  do  so. 

"I  have  another  word  to  say  before  I  close  my  note  —  a  word 
about  the  discovery  in  Mr.  Loscombe's  office. 

"It  is  no  surprise  to  me  to  hear  that  Mr.  Noel  Vanstone  lias  made 
his  will  since  his  marriage,  and  I  am  at  no  loss  to  guess  in  whose 
favor  the  will  is  made.  If  I  succeed  in  finding  my  master,  let  that 
person  get  the  money  if  that  person  can  !  A  course  to  follow  in 
this  matter  has  presented  itself  to  my  mind  since  I  received  your 
letter,  but  my  ignorance  of  details  of  business  and  intricacies  of  law 
leaves  me  still  uncertain  whether  my  idea  is  capable  of  ready  and 
certain  execution.  I  know  no  professional  person  whom  I  can  trust 
in  this  delicate  and  dangerous  business.  Is  your  large  experience 
in  other  matters  large  enough  to  help  me  in  this?  I  will  call  at 
your  office  to-morrow  at  two  o'clock,  for  the  purpose  of  consulting 
you  on  the  subject.  It  is  of  the  greatest  importance,  when  I  next 
see  Mr.  Noel  Vanstone,  that  he  should  find  me  thoroughly  prepared 
beforehand  in  this  matter  of  the  will. 

"  Your  much  obliged  servant,  Virginie  Lecount." 

xn. 

From  Mr.  Penclril  to  Miss  Garth. 

"  Serle  Street,  October  29th. 
"  Dear  Miss  Garth, — I  have  only  a  moment  to  assure  you  of  the 
sorrow  with  which  I  have  read  your  letter.     The  circumstances  un- 
der which  you  urge  your  request,  and  the  reasons  you  give  for  mak- 
ing it,  are  sufficient  to  silence  any  objection  I  might  otherwise  feel 


NO   NAME.  443 

to  the  course  you  propose.  A  trustworthy  person,  whom  I  have 
myself  instructed,  will  start  for  Allonby  to-day;  and  as  soon  as  I  re- 
ceive any  news  from  him,  you  shall  hear  of  it  by  special  messenger. 
Tell  Miss  Vanstone  this,  and  pray  add  the  sincere  expression  of  my 
sympathy  and  regard. 

"  Faithfully  yours,  William  Pendril." 

xm. 

From  Mr.  de  Bleriot  to  Mrs.  Lecount. 

"Dark's  Buildings,  November  1st. 

"  Dear  Madam, — I  have  the  pleasure  of  informing  you  that  the 
discovery  has  been  made  with  far  less  trouble  than  I  had  anticipated. 

"  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Noel  Vanstone  have  been  traced  across  the  Solway 
Firth  to  Dumfries,  and  thence  to  a  cottage  a  few  miles  from  the 
town,  on  the  banks  of  the  Nith.  The  exact  address  is  Baliol  Cot- 
tage, near  Dumfries. 

"This  information,  though  easily  hunted  up,  has  nevertheless 
been  obtained  under  rather  singular  circumstances. 

"  Before  leaving  Allonby,  the  persons  in  my  employ  discovered, 
to  their  surprise,  that  a  stranger  was  in  the  place  pursuing  the  same 
inquiry  as  themselves.  In  the  absence  of  any  instructions  prepar- 
ing them  for  such  an  occurrence  as  this,  they  took  their  own  view 
of  the  circumstance.  Considering  the  man  as  an  intruder  on  their 
business,  whose  success  might  deprive  them  of  the  credit  and  re- 
ward of  making  the  discovery,  they  took  advantage  of  their  superi- 
ority in  numbers,  and  of  their  being  first  in  the  field,  and  carefully 
misled  the  stranger  before  they  ventured  any  further  with  their  own 
investigations.  I  am  in  possession  of  the  details  of  their  proceed- 
ings, with  which  I  need  not  trouble  you.  The  end  is,  that  this  per- 
son, whoever  he  may  be,  was  cleverly  turned  back  southward  on  a 
false  scent  before  the  men  in  my  employment  crossed  the  Firth. 

"  I  mention  the  circumstance,  as  you  may  be  better  able  than  I 
am  to  find  a  clue  to  it,  and  as  it  may  possibly  be  of  a  nature  to  in- 
duce you  to  hasten  your  journey. 

"  Your  faithful  servant,  Alfred  de  Bleriot." 

xrv. 

From  Mrs.  Lecount  to  Mr.  de  Bleriot 

"  November  1st 
"  Dear  Sir, — One  line  to  say  that  your  letter  has  just  reached 
me  at  my  lodging  in  London.  I  think  I  know  who  sent  the  strange 
man  to  inquire  at  Allonby.  It  matters  little.  Before  he  finds  out 
his  mistake,  I  shall  be  at  Dumfries.  My  luggage  is  packed,  and  I 
start  for  the  North  by  the  next  train. 

"  Your  deeply  obliged,  Virginie  Lecount." 


444  NO   NAME. 


THE  FIFTH  SCENE. 

BALIOL   COTTAGE,  DUMFRIES. 


CHAPTER  I. 

Towakd  eleven  o'clock,  on  the  morning  of  the  third  of  Novem- 
ber, the  breakfast-table  at  Baliol  Cottage  presented  that  essentially 
comfortless  appearance  which  is  caused  by  a  meal  in  a  state  of  tran- 
sition— that  is  to  say,  by  a  meal  prepared  for  two  persons,  which  has 
been  already  eaten  by  one,  and  which  has  not  yet  been  approached 
by  the  other.  It  must  be  a  hardy  appetite  which  can  contemplate 
without  a  momentary  discouragement  the  battered  egg  -  shell,  the 
fish  half  stripped  to  a  skeleton,  the  crumbs  in  the  plate,  and  the 
dregs  in  the  cup.  There  is  surely  a  wise  submission  to  those  weak- 
nesses in  human  nature  which  must  be  respected  and  not  reproved, 
in  the  sympathizing  rapidity  with  which  servants  in  places  of  pub- 
lic refreshment  clear  away  all  signs  of  the  customer  in  the  past, 
from  the  eyes  of  the  customer  in  the  present.  Although  his  prede- 
cessor may  have  been  the  wife  of  his  bosom  or  the  child  of  his  loins, 
no  man  can  find  himself  confronted  at  table  by  the  traces  of  a  van- 
ished eater,  without  a  passing  sense  of  injury  in  connection  with  the 
idea  of  his  own  meal. 

Some  such  impression  as  this  found  its  way  into  the  mind  of  Mr. 
Noel  Vanstone  when  he  entered  the  lonely  breakfast-parlor  at  Baliol 
Cottage  shortly  after  eleven  o'clock.  He  looked  at  the  table  with  a 
frown,  and  rang  the  bell  with  an  expression  of  disgust. 

"  Clear  away  this  mess,"  he  said,  when  the  servant  appeared. 
"  Has  your  mistress  gone  ?" 

"  Yes,  sir — nearly  an  hour  ago." 

"  Is  Louisa  down  stairs  ?" 

"  Yes,  sir." 

"  When  you  have  put  the  table  right,  send  Louisa  up  to  me." 

He  walked  away  to  the  window.  The  momentary  irritation  pass- 
ed away  from  his  face  ;  but  it  left  an  expression  there  which  re- 
mained— an  expression  of  pining  discontent.  Personally,  his  mar- 
riage had  altered  him  for  the  worse.  His  wizen  little  cheeks  were 
beginning  to  shrink  into  hollows,  his  frail  little  figure  had  already 
contracted  a  slight  stoop.     The  former  delicacy  of  his  complexion 


NO    NAME.  445 

had  gone — the  sickly  paleness  of  it  was  all  that  remained.  His  thin 
flaxen  mustaches  were  no  longer  pragmatically  waxed  and  twisted 
into  a  curl ;  their  weak  feathery  ends  hung  meekly  pendent  over 
the  querulous  corners  of  his  mouth.  If  the  ten  or  twelve  weeks 
since  his  marriage  had  been  counted  by  his  locks,  they  might  have 
reckoned  as  ten  or  twelve  years.  He  stood  at  the  window  mechan- 
ically picking  leaves  from  a  pot  of  heath  placed  in  front  of  it,  and 
drearily  humming  the  forlorn  fragment  of  a  tune. 

The  prospect  from  the  window  overlooked  the  course  of  the  Nith 
at  a  bend  of  the  river  a  few  miles  above  Dumfries.  Here  and  there, 
through  wintry  gaps  in  the  wooded  bank,  broad  tracts  of  the  level 
cultivated  valley  met  the  eye.  Boats  passed  on  the  river,  and  carts 
plodded  along  the  high-road  on  their  way  to  Dumfries.  The  sky 
was  clear ;  the  November  sun  shone  as  pleasantly  as  if  the  year  had 
been  younger  by  two  good  months;  and  the  view, noted  in  Scotland 
for  its  bright  and  peaceful  charm,  was  presented  at  the  best  which 
its  wintry  aspect  could  assume.  If  it  had  been  hidden  in  mist  or 
drenched  with  rain,  Mr.  Noel  Vanstone  would,  to  all  appearance, 
have  found  it  as  attractive  as  he  found  it  now.  He  waited  at  the 
window  until  he  heard  Louisa's  knock  at  the  door,  then  turned 
back  sullenly  to  the  breakfast-table  and  told  her  to  come  in. 

"  Make  the  tea,"  he  said.  "  I  knowr  nothing  about  it.  I'm  left 
here  neglected.     Nobody  helps  me." 

The  discreet  Louisa  silently  and  submissively  obeyed. 

"  Did  your  mistress  leave  any  message  for  me,"  he  asked,  "  before 
she  went  away  ?" 

"  No  message  in  particular,  sir.  My  mistress  only  said  she  should 
be  too  late  if  she  wraited  breakfast  any  longer." 

"  Did  she  say  nothing  else  ?" 

"  She  told  me  at  the  carriage  door,  sir,  that  she  would  most  like- 
ly  be  back  in  a  week." 

"  Was  she  in  good  spirits  at  the  carriage  door  ?" 

"  No,  sir.  I  thought  my  mistress  seemed  very  anxious  and  un- 
easy.    Is  there  any  thing  more  I  can  do,  sir  ?" 

"  I  don't  know.     Wait  a  minute." 

He  proceeded  discontentedly  with  his  breakfast.  Louisa  waited 
resignedly  at  the  door. 

"  I  think  your  mistress  has  been  in  bad  spirits  lately,"  he  re- 
sumed, with  a  sudden  outbreak  of  petulance. 

"  My  mistress  has  not  been  very  cheerful,  sir." 
•  "  What  do  you  mean  by  not  very  cheerful  ?  Do  you  mean  to  pre- 
varicate ?  Am  I  nobody  in  the  house  ?  Am  I  to  be  kept  in  the 
dark  about  every  thing  ?  Is  your  mistress  to  go  away  on  her  own 
affairs,  and  leave  me  at  home  like  a  child — and  am  I  not  even  to 
ask  a  question  about  her  ?     Am  I  to  be  prevaricated  with  by  a  serv- 


446  NO    NAME. 

ant  ?  I  won't  be  prevaricated  with  !  Not  very  cheerful  ?  What 
do  you  mean  by  not  very  cheerful  ?" 

"  I  only  meant  that  my  mistress  was  not  in  good  spirits,  sir." 

"  Why  couldn't  you  say  it,  then  ?  Don't  you  know  the  value  of" 
words?  The  most  dreadful  consequences  sometimes  happen  from 
not  knowing  the  value  of  words.  Did  your  mistress  tell  you  she 
was  going  to  London  ?" 

"  Yes,  sir." 

"  What  did  you  think  when  your  mistress  told  you  she  was  going 
to  London  ?     Did  you  think  it  odd  she  was  going  without  me  ?" 

"  I  did  not  presume  to  think  it  odd,  sir. — Is  there  any  thing  more 
I  can  do  for  you,  if  you  please,  sir  ?" 

"  What  sort  of  a  morning  is  it  out  ?  Is  it  warm  ?  Is  the  sun  on 
the  garden  ?" 

"  Yes,  sir." 

"  Have  you  seen  the  sun  yourself  on  the  garden  ?" 

"  Yes,  sir." 

"  Get  me  my  great-coat ;  I'll  take  a  little  turn.  Has  the  man 
brushed  it  ?  Did  you  see  the  man  brush  it  yourself  ?  What  do  you 
mean  by  saying  he  has  brushed  it,  when  you  didn't  see  him  ?  Let 
me  look  at  the  tails.  If  there's  a  speck  of  dust  on  the  tails,  I'll  turn 
the  man  off! — Help  me  on  with  it." 

Louisa  helped  him  on  with  his  coat,  and  gave  him  his  hat.  He 
went  out  irritably.  The  coat  was  a  large  one  (it  had  belonged  to 
his  father) ;  the  hat  was  a  large  one  (it  was  a  misfit  purchased  as  a 
bargain  by  himself).  He  was  submerged  in  his  hat  and  coat ;  he 
looked  singularly  small,  and  frail,  and  miserable,  as  he  slowly  wend- 
ed his  way,  in  the  wintry  sunlight,  down  the  garden  walk.  The 
path  sloped  gently  from  the  back  of  the  house  to  the  water-side, 
from  which  it  was  parted  by  a  low  wooden  fence.  After  pacing 
backward  and  forward  slowly  for  some  little  time,  he  stopped  at 
the  lower  extremity  of  the  garden,  and,  leaning  on  the  fence,  looked 
down  listlessly  at  the  smooth  flow  of  the  river. 

His  thoughts  still  ran  on  the  subject  of  his  first  fretful  question  to 
Louisa — be  was  still  brooding  over  the  circumstances  under  which 
his  wife  had  left  the  cottage  that  morning,  and  over  the  want  of 
consideration  toward  himself  implied  in  the  manner  of  her  depart- 
ure. The  longer  he  thought  of  his  grievance,  the  more  acutely  he 
resented  it.  He  was  capable  of  great  tenderness  of  feeling  where 
any  injury  to  his  sense  of  his  own  importance  was  concerned.  His 
head  drooped  little  by  little  on  his  arms,  as  they  rested  on  the  fence, 
and,  in  the  deep  sincerity  of  his  mortification,  he  sighed  bitterly. 

The  sigh  was  answered  by  a  voice  close  at  his  side. 

"  You  were  happier  with  me,  sir,"  said  the  voice,  in  accents  of  ten- 
der regret. 


NO    NAME.  447 

He  looked  up  with  a  scream — literally,  with  a  scream — and  con- 
fronted Mrs.  Lccount. 

Was  it  the  spectre  of  the  woman,  or  the  woman  herself?  Hei 
hair  was  white ;  her  face  had  fallen  away ;  her  eyes  looked  out 
large,  bright,  and  haggard  over  her  hollow  cheeks.  She  was  with- 
ered and  old.  Her  dress  hung  loose  round  her  wasted  figure ;  not 
a  trace  of  its  buxom  autumnal  beauty  remained.  The  quietly  im- 
penetrable resolution,  the  smoothly  insinuating  voice— these  were 
the  only  relics  of  the  past  which  sickness  and  suffering  had  left  in 
Mrs.  Lecount. 

"  Compose  yourself,  Mr.  Noel,"  she  said,  gently.  "  You  have  no 
cause  to  be  alarmed  at  seeing  me.  Your  servant,  when  I  inquired, 
said  you  were  in  the  garden,  and  I  came  here  to  find  you.  I  have 
traced  you  out,  sir,  with  no  resentment  against  yourself,  with  no 
wish  to  distress  you  by  so  much  as  the  shadow  of  a  reproach.  I 
come  here  on  what  has  been,  and  is  still,  the  business  of  my  life — 
your  service." 

He  recovered  himself  a  little,  but  he  was  still  incapable  of  speech. 
He  held  fast  by  the  fence,  and  stared  at  her. 

"  Try  to  possess  your  mind,  sir,  of  what  I  say,"  proceeded  Mrs. 
Lecount.  "  I  have  not  come  here  as  your  enemy,  but  as  your  friend. 
I  have  been  tried  by  sickness,  I  have  been  tried  by  distress.  Noth- 
ing remains  of  me  but  my  heart.  My  heart  forgives  you  ;  my  heart, 
in  your  sore  need — need  which  you  have  yet  to  feel — places  me  at 
your  service.  Take  my  arm,  Mr.  Noel.  A  little  turn  in  the  sun  will 
help  you  to  recover  yourself." 

She  put  his  hand  through  her  arm,  and  marched  him  slowly  up 
the  garden  walk.  Before  she  had  been  five  minutes  in  his  compa- 
ny, she  had  resumed  full  possession  of  him  in  her  own  right. 

"  Now  down  again,  Mr.  Noel,"  she  said.  "  Gently  down  again,  in 
this  fine  sunlight.  I  have  much  to  say  to  you,  sir,  which  you  never 
expected  to  hear  from  me.  Let  me  ask  a  little  domestic  question 
first.  They  told  me  at  the  house  door  Mrs.  Noel  Vanstone  was  gone 
away  on  a  journey.     Has  she  gone  for  long  ?" 

Her  master's  hand  trembled  on  her  arm  as  she  put  that  question. 
Instead  of  answering  it,  he  tried  faintly  to  plead  for  himself.  The 
first  words  that  escaped  him  were  prompted  by  his  first  returning 
sense — the  sense  that  his  housekeeper  had  taken  him  into  custody. 
He  tried  to  make  his  peace  with  Mrs.  Lecount. 

"  I  always  meant  to  do  something  for  you,"  he  said,  coaxingly. 
"  You  would  have  heard  from  me  before  long.  Upon  my  word  and 
honor,  Lecount,  you  would  have  heard  from  me  before  long  !" 

"  I  don't  doubt  it,  sir,"  replied  Mrs.  Lecount.  "  But  for  the  pres- 
ent, never  mind  about  Me.     You  and  your  interests  first." 

"  How  did  you  come  here  ?"  he  asked,  looking  at  her  in  astonish- 
ment.    "  How  came  you  to  find  me  out  ?" 


448  NO    NAME. 

u  It  is  a  long  story,  sir ;  I  will  tell  it  you  some  other  time.  Let 
it  be  enough  to  say  now  that  I  have  found  you.  Will  Mrs.  Noel  be 
back  again  at  the  house  to-day  ?  A  little  louder,  sir ;  I  can  hardly 
hear  you.  So  !  so  !  Not  back  again  for  a  week  !  And  where  has 
she  gone  ?  To  London,  did  you  say  ?  And  what  for  ? — I  am  not 
inquisitive,  Mr.  Noel ;  I  am  asking  serious  questions,  under  serious 
necessity.  Why  has  your  wife  left  you  here,  and  gone  to  London 
by  herself?" 

They  were  down  at  the  fence  again  as  she  made  that  last  inquiry, 
and  they  waited,  leaning  against  it,  while  Noel  Vanstone  answered. 
Her  reiterated  assurances  that  she  bore  him  no  malice  were  pro- 
ducing their  effect ;  he  was  beginning  to  recover  himself.  The  old 
helpless  habit  of  addressing  all  his  complaints  to  his  housekeeper 
was  returning  already  with  the  re-appearance  of  Mrs.  Lecount — re- 
turning insidiously,  in  company  with  that  besetting  anxiety  to  talk 
about  his  grievances,  which  had  got  the  better  of  him  at  the  break- 
fast-table, and  which  had  shown  the  wound  inflicted  on  his  vanity 
to  his  wife's  maid. 

"I  can't  answer  for  Mrs.  Noel  Vanstone,"  he  said,  spitefully. 
"  Mrs.  Noel  Vanstone  has  not  treated  me  with  the  consideration 
which  is  my  due.  She  has  taken  my  permission  for  granted,  and 
she  has  only  thought  proper  to  tell  me  that  the  object  of  her  journey 
is  to  see  her  friends  in  London.  She  went  away  this  morning  with- 
out bidding  me  good-bye.  She  takes  her  own  way  as  if  I  was  no- 
body ;  she  treats  me  like  a  child.  You  may  not  believe  it,  Lecount, 
but  I  don't  even  know  who  her  friends  are.  I  am  left  quite  in  the 
dark ;  I  am  left  to  guess  for  myself  that  her  friends  in  London  are 
her  uncle  and  aunt." 

Mrs.  Lecount  privately  considered  the  question  by  the  help  of  her 
own  knowledge  obtained  in  London.  She  soon  reached  the  obvious 
conclusion.  After  writing  to  her  sister  in  the  first  instance,  Mag- 
dalen had  now,  in  all  probability,  followed  the  letter  in  person. 
There  was  little  doubt  that  the  friends  she  had  gone  to  visit  in 
London  were  her  sister  and  Miss  Garth. 

"  Not  her  uncle  and  aunt,  sir,"  resumed  Mrs.  Lecount,  composed- 
ly. "  A  secret  for  your  private  ear !  She  has  no  uncle  and  aunt. 
Another  little  turn  before  I  explain  myself — another  little  turn  to 
compose  your  spirits." 

She  took  him  into  custody  once  more,  and  marched  him  back  to- 
ward the  house. 

"  Mr.  Noel !"  she  said,  suddenly  stopping  in  the  middle  of  the 
walk.  "  Do  you  know  what  was  the  worst  mischief  you  ever  did 
yourself  in  your  life  ?  I  will  tell  you.  That  worst  mischief  was 
sending  me  to  Zurich." 

His  hand  began  to  tremble  on  her  arm  once  more. 


NO    NAME.  449 

"  I  didn't  do  it  I"  he  cried,  piteously.     "  It  was  all  Mr.  Bygrave." 

"You  acknowledge,  sir,  that  Mr.  Bygrave  deceived  me?"  pro- 
ceeded Mrs.  Leeount.  "I  am  glad  to  hear  that.  You  will  be  all 
the  readier  to  make  the  next  discovery  which  is  waiting  for  you — 
the  discovery  that  Mr.  Bygrave  has  deceived  you.  He  is  not  here 
to  slip  through  my  fingers  now,  and  I  am  not  the  helpless  woman 
in  this  place  that  I  was  at  Aldborough.     Thank  God  !" 

She  uttered  that  devout  exclamation  through  her  set  teeth.  All  her 
hatred  of  Captain  Wragge  hissed  out  of  her  lips  in  those  two  words. 

"  Oblige  me,  sir,  by  holding  one  side  of  my  traveling-bag,"  she 
resumed,  "  while  I  open  it  and  take  something  out." 

The  interior  of  the  bag  disclosed  a  series  of  neatly-folded  papers, 
all  laid  together  in  order,  and  numbered  outside.  Mrs.  Leeount 
took  out  one  of  the  papers,  and  shut  up  the  bag  again  with  a  loud 
snap  of  the  spring  that  closed  it. 

"  At  Aldborough,  Mr.  Noel,  I  had  only  my  own  opinion  to  sup 
port  me,"  she  remarked.  "  My  own  opinion  was  nothing  against 
Miss  Bygrave's  youth  and  beauty,  and  Mr.  Bygrave's  ready  wit.  I 
could  only  hope  to  attack  your  infatuation  with  proofs,  and  at  that 
time  I  had  not  got  them.  I  have  got  them  now  !  I  am  armed  at 
all  points  with  proofs ;  I  bristle  from  head  to  foot  with  proofs ;  I 
break  my  forced  silence,  and  speak  with  the  emphasis  of  my  proofs. 
Do  you  know  this  writing,  sir  ?" 

He  shrank  back  from  the  paper  which  she  offered  to  him. 

M I  don't  understand  this,"  he  said,  nervously.  "  I  don't  know 
what  you  want,  or  what  you  mean." 

Mrs.  Leeount  forced  the  paper  into  his  hand.  "  You  shall  know 
what  I  mean,  sir,  if  you  will  give  me  a  moment's  attention,"  she 
said.  "  On  the  day  after  you  went  away  to  St.  Crux,  I  obtained  ad- 
mission to  Mr.  Bygrave's  house,  and  I  had  some  talk  in  private  with 
Mr.  Bygrave's  wife.  That  talk  supplied  me  with  the  means  to  con- 
vince you,  which  I  had  wanted  to  find  for  weeks  and  weeks  past. 
I  wrote  you  a  letter  to  say  so — I  wrote  to  tell  you  that  I  would  for- 
feit my  place  in  your  service,  and  my  expectations  from  your  gen- 
erosity, if  I  did  not  prove  to  you  when  I  came  back  from  Switzer- 
land that  my  own  private  suspicion  of  Miss  Bygrave  was  the  truth. 
I  directed  that  letter  to  you  at  St.  Crux,  and  I  posted  it  myself. 
Now,  Mr.  Noel,  read  the  paper  which  I  have  forced  into  your  hand. 
It  is  Admiral  Bartram's  written  affirmation  that  my  letter  came  to 
St.  Crux,  and  that  he  inclosed  it  to  you,  under  cover  to  Mr.  Bygrave, 
at  your  own  request.  Did  Mr.  Bygrave  ever  give  you  that  letter? 
Don't  agitate  yourself,  sir !  One  word  of  reply  will  do — Yes  or  No." 
He  read  the  paper,  and  looked  up  at  her  with  growing  bewilder- 
ment and  fear.  She  obstinately  waited  until  he  spoke.  "No,"  he 
said,  faintly ;  "  I  never  got  the  letter." 


450  NO    NAME. 

"  First  proof!"  said  Mrs.  Lecount,  taking  the  paper  from  him,  and 
putting  it  back  in  the  bag.  "  One  more,  with  your  kind  permis- 
sion, before  we  come  to  things  more  serious  still.  I  gave  you  a 
written  description,  sir,  at  Aldborough,  of  a  person  not  named,  and 
I  asked  you  to  compare  it  with  Miss  Bygrave  the  next  time  you 
were  in  her  company.  After  having  first  shown  the  description  to 
Mr.  Bygrave — it  is  useless  to  deny  it  now,  Mr.  Noel ;  your  friend  at 
North  Shingles  is  not  here  to  help  you ! — after  having  first  shown 
my  note  to  Mr.  Bygrave,  you  made  the  comparison,  and  you  found 
it  fail  in  the  most  important  particular.  There  were  two  little 
moles  placed  close  together  on  the  left  side  of  the  neck,  in  my  de- 
scription of  the  unknown  lady,  and  there  were  no  little  moles  at  all 
when  you  looked  at  Miss  Bygrave's  neck.  I  am  old  enough  to  be 
your  mother,  Mr.  Noel.  If  the  question  is  not  indelicate,  may  I  ask 
what  the  present  state  of  your  knowledge  is  on  the  subject  of  your 
wife's  neck  ?" 

She  looked  at  him  with  a  merciless  steadiness.  He  drew  back  a 
few  steps,  cowering  under  her  eye.  "  I  can't  say,"  he  stammered. 
"  I  don't  know.  "What  do  you  mean  by  these  questions  ?  I  never 
thought  about  the  moles  afterward ;  I  never  looked.  She  wears 
her  hair  low — " 

"  She  has  excellent  reasons  to  wear  it  low,  sir,"  remarked  Mrs. 
Lecount.  "  We  will  try  and  lift  that  hair  before  we  have  done  with 
the  subject.  When  I  came  out  here  to  find  you  in  the  garden,  I  saw 
a  neat  young  person  through  the  kitchen  window,  with  her  work  in 
her  hand,  who  looked  to  my  eyes  like  a  lady's  maid.  Is  this  young 
person  your  wife's  maid  ?  I  beg  your  pardon,  sir,  did  you  say  yes  ? 
In  that  case,  another  question,  if  you  please.  Did  you  engage  her, 
or  did  your  wife  ?" 

"  I  engaged  her — " 

"While  I  was  away?  While  I  was  in  total  ignorance  that  you 
meant  to  have  a  wife,  or  a  wife's  maid  ?" 

"Yes." 

"  Under  those  circumstances,  Mr.  Noel,  you  can  not  possibly  sus- 
pect me  of  conspiring  to  deceive  you,  with  the  maid  for  my  instru- 
ment. Go  into  the  house,  sir,  while  I  wait  here.  Ask  the  woman 
who  dresses  Mrs.  Noel  Vanstone's  hair  morning  and  night  whether 
her  mistress  has  a  mark  on  the  left  side  of  her  neck,  and  (if  so) 
what  that  mark  is  ?" 

He  walked  a  few  steps  toward  the  house  without  uttering  a  word, 
then  stopped,  and  looked  back  at  Mrs.  Lecount.  His  blinking  eyes 
were  steady,  and  his  wizen  face  had  become  suddenly  composed. 
Mrs.  Lecount  advanced  a  little,  and  joined  him.  She  saw  the 
change ;  but,  with  all  her  experience  of  him,  she  failed  to  interpret 
the  true  meaning  of  it. 


NO    NAME.  451 

"Are  you  in  want  of  a  pretense,  sir?"  she  asked.  "Are  you  at  a 
loss  to  account  to  your  wife's  maid  for  such  a  question  as  I  wish  you 
to  put  to  her  ?  Pretenses  are  easily  found  which  will  do  for  per- 
sons in  her  station  of  life.  Say  I  have  come  here  with  news  of  a 
legacy  for  Mrs.  Noel  Vanstone,  and  that  there  is  a  question  of  her 
identity  to  settle  before  she  can  receive  the  money." 

She  pointed  to  the  house.  He  paid  no  attention  to  the  sign.  His 
face  grew  paler  and  paler.  Without  moving  or  speaking,  he  stood 
and  looked  at  her. 

"  Are  you  afraid  ?"  asked  Mrs.  Lecount. 

Those  words  roused  him ;  those  words  lit  a  spark  of  the  fire  of 
manhood  in  him  at  last.     He  turned  on  her  like  a  sheep  on  a  dog. 

"  I  won't  be  questioned  and  ordered !"  he  broke  out,  trembling 
violently  under  the  new  sensation  of  his  own  courage.  "  I  won't 
be  threatened  and  mystified  any  longer !  How  did  you  find  me  out 
at  this  place  ?  What  do  you  mean  by  coming  here  with  your  hints 
and  your  mysteries  ?     What  have  you  got  to  say  against  my  wife  ?" 

Mrs.  Lecoimt  composedly  opened  the  traveling-bag  and  took  out 
her  smelling-bottle,  in  case  of  emergency. 

"  You  have  spoken  to  me  in  plain  words,"  she  said.  "  In  plain 
words,  sir,  you  shall  have  your  answer.  Are  you  too  angry  to 
listen  ?" 

Her  looks  and  tones  alarmed  him,  in  spite  of  himself.  His  cour- 
age began  to  sink  again ;  and,  desperately  as  he  tried  to  steady  it, 
his  voice  trembled  when  he  answered  her. 

"  Give  me  my  answer,"  he  said,  "  and  give  it  at  once." 

"  Your  commands  shall  be  obeyed,  sir,  to  the  letter,"  replied  Mrs. 
Lecount.  "  I  have  come  here  with  two  objects.  To  open  your  eyes 
to  your  own  situation,  and  to  save  your  fortune — perhaps  your  life. 
Your  situation  is  this.  Miss  Bygrave  has  married  you  under  a  false 
character  and  a  false  name.  Can  you  rouse  your  memory  ?  Can 
you  call  to  mind  the  disguised  woman  who  threatened  you  in  Vaux- 
hall  Walk?  That  woman  —  as  certainly  as  I  stand  here  —  is  now 
your  wife." 

He  looked  at  her  in  breathless  silence,  his  lips  falling  apart,  his 
eyes  fixed  in  vacant  inquiry.  The  suddenness  of  the  disclosure  had 
overreached  its  own  end.     It  had  stupefied  him. 

"  My  wife  ?"  he  repeated,  and  burst  into  an  imbecile  laugh. 

"  Your  wife,"  reiterated  Mrs.  Lecount. 

At  the  repetition  of  those  two  words,  the  strain  on  his  faculties 
relaxed.  A  thought  dawned  on  him  for  the  first  time.  His  eyes 
fixed  on  her  with  a  furtive  alarm,  and  he  drew  back  hastily. 
"  Mad !"  he  said  to  himself,  with  a  sudden  remembrance  of  what 
his  friend  Mr.  Bygrave  had  told  him  at  Aldborough,  sharpened  by 
his  own  sense  of  the  haggard  change  that  he  saw  in  her  face. 


452  NO   NAME. 

He  spoke  in  a  whisper,  but  Mrs.  Lecoimt  heard  him.  She  was 
close  at  his  side  again  in  an  instant.  For  the  first  time,  her  self- 
possession  failed  her,  and  she  caught  him  angrily  by  the  arm. 

"Will  you  put  my  madness  to  the  proof,  sir?"  she  asked. 

He  shook  off  her  hold ;  he  began  to  gather  courage  again,  in  the 
intense  sincerity  of  his  disbelief,  courage  to  face  the  assertion  which 
she  persisted  in  forcing  on  him. 

u  Yes,11  he  answered.     "  What  must  I  do  !" 

"  Do  what  I  told  you,"  said  Mrs.  Lecount.  "  Ask  the  maid  that 
question  about  her  mistress  on  the  spot.  And  if  she  tells  you  the 
mark  is  there,  do  one  thing  more.  Take  me  up  into  your  wife's 
room,  and  open  her  wardrobe  in  my  presence  with  your  own  hands." 

"  What  do  you  want  with  her  wardrobe  ?"  he  asked. 

"  You  shall  know  when  you  open  it." 

"  Very  strange  !"  he  said  to  himself,  vacantly.  "  It's  like  a  scene 
in  a  novel — it's  like  nothing  in  real  life." 

He  went  slowly  into  the  house,  and  Mrs.  Lecount  waited  for  him 
in  the  garden. 

After  an  absence  of  a  few  minutes  only,  he  appeared  again,  on  the 
top  of  the  flight  of  steps  which  led  into  the  garden  from  the  house. 
He  held  by  the  iron  rail  with  one  hand,  while  with  the  other  he 
beckoned  to  Mrs.  Lecount  to  join  him  on  the  steps. 

"  What  does  the  maid  say  ?"  she  asked,  as  she  approached  him. 
"  Is  the  mark  there  V 

He  answered  in  a  whisper,  "  Yes."  What  he  had  heard  from  the 
maid  had  produced  a  marked  change  in  him.  The  horror  of  the 
coining  discovery  had  laid  its  paralyzing  hold  on  his  mind.  He 
moved  mechanically ;  he  looked  and  spoke  like  a  man  in  a  dream. 

"  Will  you  take  my  arm,  sir  ?" 

He  shook  his  head,  and,  preceding  her  along  the  passage  and  up 
the  stairs,  led  the  way  into  his  wife's  room.  When  she  joined  him 
and  locked  the  door,  he  stood  passively  waiting  for  his  directions, 
without  making  any  remark,  without  showing  any  external  appear- 
ance of  surprise.  He  had  not  removed  either  Ms  hat  or  coat.  Mrs. 
Lecount  took  them  off  for  him.  "  Thank  you,"  he  said,  with  the 
docility  of  a  well-trained  child.  "  It's  like  a  scene  in  a  novel — it's 
like  nothing  in  real  life." 

The  bed-chamber  was  not  very  large,  and  the  furniture  was  heavy 
and  old-fashioned.  But  evidences  of  Magdalen's  natural  taste  and 
refinement  were  visible  everywhere,  in  the  little  embellishments  that 
graced  and  enlivened  the  aspect  of  the  room.  The  perfume  of  dried 
rose  -leaves  hung  fragrant  on  the  cool  air.  Mrs.  Lecount  sniffed  the 
perfume  with  a  disparaging  frown,  and  threw  the  window  up  to  its 
full  height.  w  Pah  !"  she  said,  with  a  shudder  of  virtuous  disgust, 
"  the  atmosphere  of  deceit !" 


NO   NAME.  453 

She  seated  herself  near  (lie  window.  The  wardrobe  stood  against 
the  wall  opposite,  and  the  I  ted  was  at  the  side  of  the  room  on  he? 
right  hand.  u  Open  the  wardrobe,  Mr.  Noel,"  she  said.  ,l  I  don't  go 
near  it.  I  touch  nothing  in  it  myself.  Take  out  the  drosses  with 
your  own  hand,  and  put  thein  on  the  bed.  Take  them  out  one  by 
one  until  I  tell  you  to  stop." 

He  obeyed  her.  "  I'll  do  it  as  well  as  I  can,"  he  said.  "  My  hands 
are  cold,  and  my  head  feels  half  asleep." 

The  dresses  to  be  removed  were  not  many,  for  Magdalen  had 
taken  some  of  them  away  with  her.  After  he  had  put  two  dresses 
on  the  bed,  he  was  obliged  to  search  in  the  inner  recesses  of  the 
wardrobe  before  he  could  find  a  third.  When  he  produced  it,  Mrs. 
Lecount  made  a  sign  to  him  to  stop.  The  end  was  reached  already ; 
he  had  found  the  brown  Alpaca  dress. 

"  Lay  it  out  on  the  bed,  sir,"  said  Mrs.  Lecount.  "  You  will  see  a 
double  flounce  running  round  the  bottom  of  it.  Lift  up  the  outer 
flounce,  and  pass  the  inner  one  through  your  fingers,  inch  by  inch. 
If  you  come  to  a  place  where  there  is  a  morsel  of  the  stuff  missing, 
stop  and  look  up  at  me." 

He  passed  the  flounce  slowly  through  his  fingers  for  a  minute 
or  more,  then  stopped  and  looked  up.  Mrs.  Lecount  produced  her 
pocket-book,  and  opened  it. 

"  Every  word  I  now  speak,  sir,  is  of  serious  consequence  to  you 
and  to  me,"  she  said.  "  Listen  with  your  closest  attention.  When 
the  woman  calling  herself  Miss  Garth  came  to  see  us  in  Vauxhall 
Walk,  I  knelt  down  behind  the  chair  in  which  she  was  sitting,  and 
I  cut  a  morsel  of  stuff  from  the  dress  she  wore,  which  might  help 
me  to  know  that  dress  if  I  ever  saw  it  again.  I  did  this  while  the 
woman's  whole  attention  was  absorbed  in  talking  to  you.  The 
morsel  of  stuff  has  been  kept  in  my  pocket-book  from  that  time  to 
this.  See  for  yourself,  Mr.  Noel,  if  it  fits-  the  gap  in  that  dress  which 
your  own  hands  have  just  taken  from  your  wife's  wardrobe." 

She  rose  and  handed  him  the  fragment  of  stuff  across  the  bed. 
He  put  it  into  the  vacant  space  in  the  flounce  as  well  as  his  trem- 
bling fingers  would  let  him. 

"  Does  it  fit,  sir  ?"  asked  Mrs.  Lecount. 

The  dress  dropped  from  his  hands,  and  the  deadly  bluish  pal- 
lor— which  every  doctor  who  attended  him  had  warned  his  house- 
keeper to  dread — overspread  his  face  slowly.  Mrs.  Lecount  had  not 
reckoned  on  such  an  answer  to  her  question  as  she  now  saw  in  his 
cheeks.  She  hurried  round  to  him,  with  the  smelling-bottle  in  her 
hand.  He  dropped  to  his  knees,  and  caught  at  her  dress  with  the 
grasp  of  a  drowning  man.  "  Save  me  !"  he  gasped,  in  a  hoarse, 
breathless  whisper.     "  Oh,  Lecount,  save  me !" 

"  I  promise  to  save  you,"  said  Mrs.  Lecount ;  "  I  am  here  with  the 


454  NO   NAME. 

means  and  the  resolution  to  save  you.  Come  away  from  this  place- 
come  nearer  to  the  air."  She  raised  him  as  she  spoke,  and  led  him 
across  the  room  to  the  window.  "  Do  you  feel  the  chill  pain  again 
on  your  left  side  ?"  she  asked,  with  the  first  signs  of  alarm  that  she 
had  shown  yet.  "  Has  your  wife  got  any  eau-de-cologne,  any  sal- 
volatile  in  her  room  ?  Don't  exhaust  yourself  by  speaking — point 
to  the  place  !" 

He  pointed  to  a  little  triangular  cupboard  of  old  worm-eaten  wal- 
nut-wood fixed  high  in  a  corner  of  the  room.  Mrs.  Lecount  tried 
the  door  :  it  was  locked. 

As  she  made  that  discovery,  she  saw  his  head  sink  back  gradu- 
ally on  the  easy-chair  in  which  she  had  placed  him.  The  warning 
of  the  doctors  in  past  years — "  If  you  ever  let  him  faint,  you  let  him 
die  " — recurred  to  her  memory  as  if  it  had  beon  spoken  the  clay  be- 
fore. She  looked  at  the  cupboard  again.  In  a  recess  under  it  lay 
some  ends  of  cord,  placed  there  apparently  for  purposes  of  packing. 
Without  an  instant's  hesitation,  she  snatched  up  a  morsel  of  cord, 
tied  one  end  fast  round  the  knob  of  the  cupboard  door,  and  seizing 
the  other  end  in  both  hands,  pulled  it  suddenly  with  the  exertion 
of  her  whole  strength.  The  rotten  wood  gave  way,  the  cupboard 
doors  flew  open,  and  a  heap  of  little  trifles  poured  out  noisily  on 
the  floor.  Without  stopping  to  notice  the  brokeu  china  and  glass 
at  her  feet,  she  looked  into  the  dark  recesses  of  the  cupboard,  and 
saw  the  gleam  of  two  glass  bottles.  One  was  put  away  at  the  ex- 
treme back  of  the  shelf,  the  other  was  a  little  in  advance,  almost 
hiding  it.  She  snatched  them  both  out  at  once,  and  took  them,  one 
in  each  hand,  to  the  window,  where  she  could  read  their  labels  in 
the  clearer  light. 

The  bottle  in  her  right  hand  was  the  first  bottle  she  looked  at. 
It  was  marked — Sal-volatile. 

She  instantly  laid  the  other  bottle  aside  on  the  table  without 
looking  at  it.  The  other  bottle  lay  there,  waiting  its  turn.  It  held 
a  dark  liquid,  and  it  was  labeled — Poison. 


CHAPTER  II. 

Mrs.  Lecount  mixed  the  sal-volatile  with  water,  and  adminis- 
tered it  immediately.  The  stimulant  had  its  effect.  In  a  few  min- 
utes Noel  Vanstone  was  able  to  raise  himself  in  the  chair  without 
assistance ;  his  color  changed  again  for  the  better,  and  his  breath 
came  and  went  more  freely. 

'How  do  you  feel  now,  sir?"  asked  Mrs.  Lecount.     "Are  you 
warm  again  on  your  left  side  ?" 


"if  you  ever  let  him  faint,  you  let  him  die. 


NO   NAME.  457 

He  paid  no  attention  to  that  inquiry;  his  eyes,  wandering  about 
the  room,  turned  by  chance  toward  the  table.  To  Mrs.  Lecount's 
surprise,  instead  of  answering  her,  he  bent  forward  in  his  chair,  and 
looked  with  staring  eyes  and  pointing  hand  at  the  second  bottle 
which  she  had  taken  from  the  cupboard,  and  which  she  had  hasti- 
ly laid  aside  without  paying  attention  to  it.  Seeing  that  some  new 
alarm  possessed  him,  she  advanced  to  the  table,  and  looked  where 
he  looked.  The  labeled  side  of  the  bottle  was  full  in  view ;  and 
there,  in  the  plain  handwriting  of  the  chemist  at  Aldborough,  was 
the  one  startling  word  confronting  them  both — "  Poison." 

Even  Mrs.  Lecount's  self-possession  was  shaken  by  that  discovery. 
She  was  not  prepared  to  see  her  own  darkest  forebodings — the  un- 
acknowledged offspring  of  her  hatred  for  Magdalen — realized  as  she 
saw  them  realized  now.  The  suicide-despair  in  which  the  poison 
had  been  procured  ;  the  suicide-purpose  for  which,  in  distrust  of 
the  future,  the  poison  had  been  kept,  had  brought  with  them  their 
own  retribution.  There  the  bottle  lay,  in  Magdalen's  absence,  a 
false  witness  of  treason  which  had  never  entered  her  mind — treason 
against  her  husband's  life ! 

With  his  hand  still  mechanically  pointing  at  the  table,  Noel  Van- 
stone  raised  his  head  and  looked  up  at  Mrs.  Lecount. 

*  I  took  it  from  the  cupboard,"  she  said,  answering  the  look. 
"  I  took  both  bottles  out  together,  not  knowing  which  might  be 
the  bottle  I  wanted.  I  am  as  much  shocked,  as  much  frightened, 
as  you  are." 

"  Poison  !"  he  said  to  himself,  slowdy.  "  Poison  locked  up  by  my 
wife  in  the  cupboard  in  her  own  room."  He  stopped,  and  looked 
at  Mrs.  Lecount  once  more.  "For  meV  he  asked,  in  a  vacant,  in- 
quiring tone. 

"We  will  not  talk  of  it,  sir,  until  your  mind  is  more  at  ease," 
said  Mrs.  Lecount.  "  In  the  mean  time,  the  danger  that  lies  waiting 
in  this  bottle  shall  be  instantly  destroyed  in  your  presence."  She 
took  out  the  cork,  and  threw  the  laudanum  out  of  window,  and  the 
empty  bottle  after  it.  "  Let  us  try  to  forget  this  dreadful  discovery 
for  the  present,"  she  resumed ;  "  let  us  go  down  stairs  at  once.  All 
that  I  have  now  to  say  to  you  can  be  said  in  another  room." 

She  helped  him  to  rise  from  the  chair,  and  took  his  arm  in  her 
own.  "  It  is  well  for  him ;  it  is  well  for  me,"  she  thought,  as  they 
went  down  stairs  together, "  that  I  came  when  I  did." 

On  crossing  the  passage,  she  stepped  to  the  front  door,  where  the 
carriage  was  waiting  which  had  brought  her  from  Dumfries,  and  in- 
structed the  coachman  to  put  up  his  horses  at  the  nearest  inn,  and  to 
call  again  for  her  in  two  hours'  time.  This  done,  she  accompanied 
Noel  Vanstone  into  the  sitting-room,  stirred  up  the  fire,  and  placed 
him  before  it  comfortably  in  an  easy-chair.     He  sat  for  a  few  min- 


458  NO    NAME. 

utes,  warming  his  hands  feebly  like  an  old  man,  and  staring  straight 
into  the  flame.     Then  he  spoke. 

"  When  the  woman  came  and  threatened  me  in  Vauxhall  Walk," 
he  began,  still  staring  into  the  fire,  "  you  came  back  to  the  parlor 
after  she  was  gone,  and  you  told  me —  ?"  He  stopped,  shivered  a 
little,  and  lost  the  thread  of  his  recollections  at  that  point. 

"  I  told  you,  sir,"  said  Mrs.  Lecount,  "  that  the  woman  was,  in  my 
opinion,  Miss  Vanstone  herself.  Don't  start,  Mr.  Noel !  Your  wife 
is  away,  and  I  am  here  to  take  care  of  you.  Say  to  yourself,  if  you 
feel  frightened,  '  Lecount  is  here ;  Lecount  will  take  care  of  me.' 
The  truth  must  be  told,  sir,  however  hard  to  bear  the  truth  may  be. 
Miss  Magdalen  Vanstone  was  the  woman  who  came  to  you  in  dis- 
guise ;  and  the  woman  who  came  to  you  in  disguise  is  the  woman 
you  have  married.  The  conspiracy  which  she  threatened  you  with 
in  London  is  the  conspiracy  which  has  made  her  your  wife.  That 
is  the  plain  truth.  You  have  seen  the  dress  up  stairs.  If  that  dress 
had  been  no  longer  in  existence,  I  should  still  have  had  my  proofs 
to  convince  you.  Thanks  to  my  interview  with  Mrs.  Bygrave,  I 
have  discovered  the  house  your  wife  lodged  at  in  London ;  it  was 
opposite  our  house  in  Vauxhall  Walk.  I  have  laid  my  hand  on 
one  of  the  landlady's  daughters,  who  watched  your  wife  from  an 
inner  room,  and  saw  her  put  on  the  disguise  ;  who  can  speak  to  her 
identity,  and  to  the  identity  of  her  companion,  Mrs.  Bygrave ;  and 
who  has  furnished  me,  at  my  own  request,  with  a  written  statement 
of  facts,  which  she  is  ready  to  affirm  on  oath  if  any  person  ventures 
to  contradict  her.  You  shall  read  the  statement,  Mr.  Noel,  if  you 
like,  when  you  are  fitter  to  understand  it.  You  shall  also  read  a 
letter  in  the  handwriting  of  Miss  Garth  —  who  will  repeat  to  you 
personally  every  word  she  has  written  to  me — a  letter  formally  deny- 
ing that  she  was  ever  in  Vauxhall  Walk,  and  formally  asserting  that 
those  moles  on  your  wife's  neck  are  marks  peculiar  to  Miss  Mag- 
dalen Vanstone,  whom  she  has  known  from  childhood.  I  say  it 
with  a  just  pride — you  will  find  no  weak  place  anywhere  in  the  evi- 
dence which  I  bring  you.  If  Mr.  Bygrave  had  not  stolen  my  letter, 
you  would  have  had  your  warning  before  I  was  cruelly  deceived 
into  going  to  Zurich ;  and  the  proofs  which  I  now  bring  you,  after 
your  marriage,  I  should  then  have  offered  to  you  before  it.  Don't 
hold  me  responsible,  sir,  for  what  has  happened  since  I  left  England. 
Blame  your  uncle's  bastard  daughter,  and  blame  that  villain  with 
the  brown  eye  and  the  green !" 

She  spoke  her  last  venomous  words  as  slowly  and  distinctly  as 
she  had  spoken  all  the  rest.  Noel  Vanstone  made  no  answer — he 
still  sat  cowering  over  the  fire.  She  looked  round  into  his  face. 
He  was  crying  silently.  "  I  was  so  fond  of  her  ?"  said  the  misevable 
Liitlc  creature  ;  "  and  I  thought  she  was  so  fond  of  Me  !" 


NO   NAME.  459 

Mrs.  Lecount  turned  her  back  on  him  in  disdainful  silence. 
"  Fond  of  her !"  As  she  repeated  those  words  to  herself,  her  hag- 
gard face  became  almost  handsome  again  in  the  magnificent  inten- 
sity of  its  contempt. 

She  walked  to  a  book-case  at  the  lower  end  of  the  room,  and 
began  examining  the  volumes  in  it.  Before  she  had  been  long 
engaged  in  this  way,  she  was  startled  by  the  sound  of  his  voice, 
aftrightedly  calling  her  back.  The  tears  were  gone  from  his  face :  it 
was  blank  again  with  terror  when  he  now  turned  it  toward  her. 

"  Lecount !"  he  said,  holding  to  her  with  both  hands.  "  Can  an 
egg  be  poisoned  ?  I  had  an  egg  for  breakfast  this  morning,  and  a 
little  toast." 

"  Make  your  mind  easy,  sir,"  said  Mrs.  Lecount.  "  The  poison  of 
your  wife's  deceit  is  the  only  poison  you  have  taken  yet.  If  she 
had  resolved  already  on  making  you  pay  the  price  of  your  folly 
with  your  life,  she  would  not  be  absent  from  the  house  while  you 
were  left  living  in  it.  Dismiss  the  thought  from  your  mind.  It  is 
the  middle  of  the  day  ;  you  want  refreshment.  I  have  more  to  say 
to  you  in  the  interests  of  your  own  safety — I  have  something  for 
you  to  do,  which  must  be  done  at  once.  Recruit  your  strength,  and 
you  will  do  it.  I  will  set  you  the  example  of  eating,  if  you  still 
distrust  the  food  in  this  house.  Are  you  composed  enough  to  give 
the  servant  her  orders,  if  I  ring  the  bell  ?  It  is  necessary  to  the  ob- 
ject I  have  in  view  for  you,  that  nobody  should  think  you  ill  in 
body  or  troubled  in  mind.  Try  first  with  me  before  the  servant 
comes  in.  Let  us  see  how  you  look  and  speak  when  you  say, '  Bring 
up  the  lunch.'  " 

After  two  rehearsals,  Mrs.  Lecount  considered  him  fit  to  give  the 
order,  without  betraying  himself. 

The  bell  was  answered  by  Louisa— Louisa  looked  hard  at  Mrs. 
Lecount.  The  luncheon  was  brought  up  by  the  house-maid — the 
house-maid  looked  hard  at  Mrs.  Lecount.  When  luncheon  was 
over,  the  table  was  cleared  by  the  cook — the  cook  looked  hard  at 
Mrs.  Lecount.  The  three  servants  were  plainly  suspicious  that 
something  extraordinary  was  going  on  in  the  house.  It  was  hard- 
ly possible  to  doubt  that  they  had  arranged  to  share  among  them- 
selves the  three  opportunities  which  the  service  of  the  table  afford- 
ed them  of  entering  the  room. 

The  curiosity  of  which  she  was  the  object  did  not  escape  the 
penetration  of  Mrs.  Lecoftnt.  "  I  did  well,"  she  thought,  "  to  arm 
myself  in  good  time  with  the  means  of  reaching  my  end.  If  I  let 
the  grass  grow  under  my  feet,  one  or  the  other  of  those  women 
might  get  in  my  way."  Roused  by  this  consideration,  she  pro- 
duced her  traveling-bag  from  a  corner,  as  soon  as  the  last  of  the 
servants  had  entered  the  room ;  and  seating  herself  at  the  end  of 


460  NO    NAME. 

the  table  opposite  Noel  Vanstone,  looked  at  hirn  for  a  moment,  witlj 
a  steady,  investigating  attention.  She  had  carefully  regulated  the 
quantity  of  wine  which  he  had  taken  at  luncheon — she  had  let  him 
drink  exactly  enough  to  fortify,  without  confusing  him ;  and  she 
now  examined  his  face  critically,  like  an  artist  examining  his  pic- 
ture at  the  end  of  the  day's  work.  The  result  appeared  to  satisfy 
her,  and  she  opened  the  serious  business  of  the  interview  on  the 
spot. 

"  Will  you  look  at  the  written  evidence  I  have  mentioned  to  you, 
Mr.  Noel,  before  I  say  any  more  ?"  she  inquired.  "  Or  are  you  suf- 
ficiently persuaded  of  the  truth  to  proceed  at  once  to  the  suggestion 
which  I  have  now  to  make  to  you  ?" 

"  Let  me  hear  your  suggestion,"  he  said,  sullenly  resting  his  el- 
bows on  the  table,  and  leaning  his  head  on  his  hands. 

Mrs.  Lecount  took  from  her  traveling-bag  the  written  evidence  to 
which  she  had  just  alluded,  and  carefully  placed  the  papers  on  one 
side  of  him,  within  easy  reach,  if  he  wished  to  refer  to  them.  Far 
from  being  daunted,  she  was  visibly  encouraged  by  the  ungracious- 
ness of  his  manner.  Her  experience  of  him  informed  her  that  the 
sign  was  a  promising  one.  On  those  rare  occasions  when  the  little 
resolution  that  he  possessed  was  roused  in  him,  it  invariably  as- 
serted itself — like  the  resolution  of  most  other  weak  men — aggress- 
ively. At  such  times,  in  proportion  as  he  was  outwardly  sullen  and 
discourteous  to  those  about  him,  his  resolution  rose ;  and  in  propor- 
tion as  he  was  considerate  and  polite,  it  fell.  The  tone  of  the  an- 
swer he  had  just  given,  and  the  attitude  he  assumed  at  the  table, 
convinced  Mrs.  Lecount  that  Spanish  wine  and  Scotch  mutton  had 
done  their  duty,  and  had  rallied  his  sinking  courage. 

"  I  will  put  the  question  to  you  for  form's  sake,  sir,  if  you  wish  it," 
she  proceeded.  "  But  I  am  already  certain,  without  any  question 
at  all,  that  you  have  made  your  will  ?" 

He  nodded  his  head  without  looking  at  her. 

"  You  have  made  it  in  your  wife's  favor  ?" 

He  nodded  again. 

"  You  have  left  her  every  thing  you  possess  ?" 

"No." 

Mrs.  Lecount  looked  surprised. 

"  Did  you  exercise  a  reserve  toward  her,  Mr.  Noel,  of  your  own 
accord  ?"  she  inquired ;  "  or  is  it  possible  that  your  wife  put  her 
own  limits  to  her  interest  in  your  will  ?" 

He  was  uneasily  silent  —  he  was  plainly  ashamed  to  answer  the 
ques  ion.     Mrs.  Lecount  repeated  it  in  a  less  direct  form. 

"  How  much  have  you  left  your  widow,  Mr.  Noel,  in  the  event  of 
your  death?" 

«  Eighty  thousand  pounds." 


NO   NAME.  461 

That  reply  answered  the  question.  Eighty  thousand  pounds  was 
exactly  the  fortune  which  Michael  Vanstone  had  taken  from  his 
brother's  orphan  children  at  his  brother's  death — exactly  the  fortune 
of  which  Michael  Vanstone'a  son  had  kept  possession,  in  his  turn, 
as  pitilessly  as  his  father  before  him.  Noel  Vanstone's  silence  was 
eloquent  of  the  confession  which  he  was  ashamed  to  make.  His 
doting  weakness  had,  beyond  all  doubt,  placed  his  whole  property 
at  the  feet  of  his  wife.  And  this  girl,  whose  vindictive  daring  had 
defied  all  restraints — this  girl,  who  had  not  shrunk  from  her  desper- 
ate determination  even  at  the  church  door — had,  in  the  very  hour 
of  her  triumph,  taken  part  only  from  the  man  who  would  willingly 
have  given  all ! — had  rigorously  exacted  her  father's  fortune  from 
him  to  the  last  farthing ;  and  had  then  turned  her  back  on  the  hand 
that  was  tempting  her  with  tens  of  thousands  more !  For  the  mo- 
ment, Mrs.  Lecount  was  fairly  silenced  by  her  own  surprise ;  Mag- 
dalen had  forced  the  astonishment  from  her  which  is  akin  to  admi- 
ration, the  astonishment  which  her  enmity  would  fain  have  refused. 
She  hated  Magdalen  with  a  tenfold  hatred  from  that  time. 

"I  have  no  doubt,  sir,"  she  resumed,  after  a  momentary  silence, 
"that  Mrs.  Noel  gave  you  excellent  reasons  why  the  provision  for 
her  at  your  death  should  be  no  more,  and  no  less,  than  eighty  thou- 
sand pounds.  And,  on  the  other  hand,  I  am  equally  sure  that  you, 
in  your  innocence  of  all  suspicion,  found  those  reasons  conclusive  at 
the  time.  That  time  has  now  gone  by.  Your  eyes  are  opened,  sir; 
and  you  will  not  fail  to  remark  (as  I  remark)  that  the  Combe-Raven 
property  happens  to  reach  the  same  sum  exactly,  as  the  legacy  which 
your  wife's  own  instructions  directed  you  to  leave  her.  If  you  are 
still  in  any  doubt  of  the  motive  for  which  she  married  you,  look  in 
your  own  will — and  there  the  motive  is !" 

He  raised  his  head  from  his  hands,  and  became  closely  attentive 
to  what  she  wTas  saying  to  him,  for  the  first  time  since  they  had 
faced  each  other  at  the  table.  The  Combe-Raven  property  had 
never  been  classed  by  itself  in  his  estimation.  It  had  come  to  him 
merged  in  his  father's  other  possessions,  at  his  father's  death.  The 
discovery  which  had  now  opened  before  him  was  one  to  which  his 
ordinary  habits  of  thought,  as  well  as  his  innocence  of  suspicion, 
had  hitherto  closed  his  eyes.  He  said  nothing ;  but  he  looked  less 
sullenly  at  Mrs.  Lecount.  His  manner  was  more  ingratiating ;  the 
high  tide  of  his  courage  was  already  on  the  ebb. 

"Your  position,  sir,  must  be  as  plain  by  this  time  to  you  as  it;  is 
to  me,"  said  Mrs.  Lecount.  "There  is  only  one  obstacle  now  left 
between  this  woman  and  the  attainment  of  her  end.  That  obsfach 
ts  your  life.  After  the  discovery  we  have  made  up  stairs,  I  leave 
vou  to  consider  for  yourself  what  your  life  is  worth." 

At  those  terrible  wTords,  the  ebbing  resolution  in  him  rau  out  to 


462  NO   NAME. 

the  last  drop.  "  Don't  frighten  me !"  he  pleaded ;  "  I  have  been 
frightened  enough  already."  He  rose,  and  dragged  his  chair  after 
him  round  the  table  to  Mrs.  Lecount's  side.  He  sat  down  and 
caressingly  kissed  her  hand.  "  You  good  creature  !"  he  said,  in  a 
sinking  voice.  "You  excellent  Lecount!  Tell  me  what  to  do. 
I'm  full  of  resolution — I'll  do  any  thing  to  save  my  life !" 

"  Have  you  got  writing  materials  in  the  room,  sir  ?"  asked  Mrs. 
Lecount.     "  Will  you  put  them  on  the  table,  if  you  please  ?" 

While  the  writing  materials  were  in  process  of  collection,  Mrs.  Le- 
count made  a  new  demand  on  the  resources  of  her  traveling-bag. 
She  took  two  papers  from  it,  each  indorsed  in  the  same  neat  com- 
mercial handwriting.  One  was  described  as  "Draft  for  proposed 
Will,"  and  the  other  as  "  Draft  for  proposed  Letter."  When  she 
placed  them  before  her  on  the  table,  her  hand  shook  a  little ;  and 
she  applied  the  smelling-salts,  which  she  had  brought  with  her  in 
Noel  Vanstone's  interests,  to  her  own  nostrils. 

"  I  had  hoped,  when  I  came  here,  Mr.  Noel,"  she  proceeded,  "  to 
have  given  you  more  time  for  consideration  than  it  seems  safe  to 
give  you  now.  When  you  first  told  me  of  your  wife's  absence  in 
London,  I  thought  it  probable  that  the  object  of  her  journey  was  to 
see  her  sister  and  Miss  Garth.  Since  the  horrible  discovery  we  have 
made  up  stairs,  I  am  inclined  to  alter  that  opinion.  Your  wife's  de- 
termination not  to  tell  you  who  the  friends  are  whom  she  has  gone 
to  see,  fills  me  with  alarm.  She  may  have  accomplices  in  London — 
accomplices,  for  any  thing  we  know  to  the  contrary,  in  this  house. 
All  three  of  your  servants,  sir,  have  taken  the  opportunity,  in  turn, 
of  coming  into  the  room  and  looking  at  me.  I  don't  like  their 
looks !  Neither  you  nor  I  know  what  may  happen  from  day  to 
day,  or  even  from  hour  to  hour.  If  you  take  my  advice,  you  will 
get  the  start  at  once  of  all  possible  accidents ;  and,  when  the  car- 
riage comes  back,  you  will  leave  this  house  with  me  !" 

"  Yes,  yes  !"  he  said,  eagerly ;  "  I'll  leave  the  house  with  you.  I 
wouldn't  stop  here  by  myself  for  any  sum  of  money  that  could  be 
offered  me.  What  do  we  want  the  pen  and  ink  for?  Are  you  to 
write,  or  am  I  ?" 

"  You  are  to  write,  sir,"  said  Mrs.  Lecount.  "  The  means  taken 
for  promoting  your  own  safety  are  to  be  means  set  in  motion,  from 
beginning  to  end,  by  yourself.  I  suggest,  Mr.  Noel — and  you  de- 
cide. Recognize  your  own  position,  sir.  What  is  your  first  and 
foremost  necessity  ?  It  is  plainly  this.  You  must  destroy  your 
wife's  interest  in  your  death  by  making  another  will." 

He  vehemently  nodded  his  approval;  his  color  rose,  and  his 
blinking  eyes  brightened  in  malicious  triumph.  "  She  sha'n't  have 
x  farthing,"  he  said  to  himself,  in  a  whisper — "  she  sha'n't  have  a 
farthing !" 


NO   NAME.  463 

"  When  your  will  is  made,  sir,"  proceeded  Mrs.  Lecount,  "  you 
must  place  it  in  the  hands  of  a  trustworthy  person — not  my  hands, 
Mr.  Noel;  I  am  only  your  servant!  Then,  when  the  will  is  sale, 
and  when  you  are  safe,  write  to  your  wife  at  this  house.  Tell  her 
her  infamous  imposture  is  discovered;  tell  her  you  have  made  a 
new  will,  which  leaves  her  penniless  at  your  death ;  tell  her,  in  your 
righteous  indignation,  that  she  enters  your  doors  no  more.  Place 
yourself  in  that  strong  position,  and  it  is  no  longer  you  who  are  at 
your  wife's  mercy,  but  your  wife  who  is  at  yours.  Assert  your  own 
power,  sir,  with  the  law  to  help  you,  and  crush  this  woman  into  sub- 
mission to  any  terms  for  the  future  that  you  please  to  impose." 

He  eagerly  took  up  the  pen.  "  Yes,"  he  said,  with  a  vindictive 
self-importance,  "any  terms  I  please  to  impose."  He  suddenly 
checked  himself,  and  his  face  became  dejected  and  perplexed. 
"  How  can  I  do  it  now  ?"  he  asked,  throwing  down  the  pen  as 
quickly  as  he  had  taken  it  up. 

"  Do  what,  sir  ?"  inquired  Mrs.  Lecount. 

"  How  can  I  make  my  will,  with  Mr.  Loscombe  away  in  London, 
and  no  lawyer  here  to  help  me  ?" 

Mrs.  Lecount  gently  tapped  the  papers  before  her  on  the  table 
with  her  forefinger. 

"  All  the  help  you  need,  sir,  is  waiting  for  you  here,"  she  said. 
"  I  considered  this  matter  carefully  before  I  came  to  you ;  and  I 
provided  myself  with  the  confidential  assistance  of  a  friend,  to  guide 
me  through  those  difficulties  which  I  could  not  penetrate  for  my- 
self. The  friend  to  whom  I  refer  is  a  gentleman  of  Swiss  extraction, 
but  born  and  bred  in  England.  He  is  not  a  lawyer  by  profession — 
but  he  has  had  his  own  sufficient  experience  of  the  law,  neverthe- 
less ;  and  he  has  supplied  me,  not  only  with  a  model  by  which  you 
may  make  your  will,  but  with  the  written  sketch  of  a  letter  which 
it  is  as  important  for  us  to  have,  as  the  model  of  the  will  itself. 
There  is  another  necessity  waiting  for  you,  Mr.  Noel,  which  I  have 
not  mentioned  yet,  but  which  is  no  less  urgent  in  its  way  than  the 
necessity  of  the  will." 

"  What  is  it  ?"  he  asked,  with  roused  curiosity. 

"  We  will  take  it  in  its  turn,  sir,"  answered  Mrs.  Lecount.  "  Its 
turn  has  not  come  yet.  The  will,  if  you  please,  first.  I  will  dictate 
from  the  model  in  my  possession,  and  you  will  write." 

Noel  Vanstone  looked  at  the  draft  for  the  Will  and  the  draft  for 
the  Letter  with  suspicious  curiosity. 

"  I  think  I  ought  to  see  the  papers  myself,  before  you  dictate,"  he 
said.     "  It  would  be  more  satisfactory  to  my  own  mind,  Lecount." 

"  By  all  means,  sir,"  rejoined  Mrs.  Lecount,  handing  him  the  pa- 
pers immediately. 

He  read  the  draft  for  the  Will  first,  pausing  and  kuittuig  his 


464  NO   NAME. 

brows  distrustfully,  wherever  he  found  blank  spaces  left  in  the 
manuscript  to  be  filled  in  with  the  names  of  persons,  and  the  enu- 
meration of  sums  bequeathed  to  them.  Two  or  three  minutes  of 
reading  brought  him  to  the  end  of  the  paper.  He  gave  it  back  to 
Mrs.  Lecount  without  making  any  objection  to  it. 

The  draft  for  the  Letter  was  a  much  longer  document.  He  ob- 
stinately read  it  through  to  the  end,  with  an  expression  of  perplex- 
ity and  discontent  which  showed  that  it  was  utterly  unintelligible 
to  him.  "  I  must  have  this  explained,"  he  said,  with  a  touch  of  his 
old  self-importance,  "  before  I  take  any  steps  in  the  matter." 

"  It  shall  be  explained,  sir,  as  we  go  on,"  said  Mrs.  Lecount. 

"  Every  word  of  it  ?" 

"  Every  word  of  it,  Mr.  Noel,  when  its  turn  comes.  You  have  no 
objection  to  the  will  ?  To  the  will,  then,  as  I  said  before,  let  us 
devote  ourselves  first.  You  have  seen  for  yourself  that  it  is  short 
enough  and  simple  enough  for  a  child  to  understand  it.  But  if  any 
doubts  remain  on  your  mind,  by  all  means  compose  those  doubts  by 
showing  your  will  to  a  lawyer  by  profession.  In  the  mean  time,  let 
me  not  be  considered  intrusive,  if  I  remind  you  that  we  are  all  mor- 
tal, and  that  the  lost  opportunity  can  never  be  recalled.  While  your 
time  is  your  own,  sir,  and  while  your  enemies  are  unsuspicious  of 
you,  make  your  will !" 

She  opened  a  sheet  of  note-paper,  and  smoothed  it  out  before  him ; 
she  dipped  the  pen  in  ink,  and  placed  it  in  his  hands.  He  took  it 
from  her  without  speaking — he  was,  to  all  appearance,  suffering  un- 
der some  temporary  uneasiness  of  mind.  But  the  main  point  was 
gained.  There  he  sat,  with  the  paper  before  him,  and  the  pen  in 
his  hand  ;  ready  at  last,  in  right  earnest,  to  make  his  will. 

"  The  first  question  for  you  to  decide,  sir,"  said  Mrs.  Lecount, 
after  a  preliminary  glance  at  her  Draft,  "  is  your  choice  of  an  execu- 
tor. I  have  no  desire  to  influence  your  decision ;  but  I  may,  with- 
out impropriety,  remind  you  that  a  wise  choice  means,  in  other 
words,  the  choice  of  an  old  and  tried  friend  whom  you  know  that 
you  can  trust." 

"  It  means  the  admiral,  I  suppose  ?"  said  Noel  Vanstone. 

Mrs.  Lecount  bowed. 

"  Very  well,"  he  continued.     "  The  admiral  let  it  be." 

There  was  plainly  some  oppression  still  weighing  on  his  mind. 
Even  under  the  trying  circumstances  in  which  he  was  placed,  it  was 
not  in  his  nature  to  take  Mrs.  Lecount's  perfectly  sensible  and  dis- 
interested advice  without  a  word  of  cavil,  as  he  had  taken  it  now. 

"  Are  you  ready,  sir  ?" 

"  Yes." 

Mrs.  Lecount  dictated  the  first  paragraph  from  the  Draft,  as  fol- 
lows: 


NO   NAME.  465 

"This  is  the  last  Will  and  Testament  of  me,  Noel  Vanstone,  now 
living  at  Baliol  Cottage,  near  Dumfries.  I  revoke,  absolutely  and 
in  every  particular,  my  former  will  executed  on  the  thirtieth  of 
September,  eighteen  hundred  and  forty-seven  ;  and  I  hereby  appoint 
Rear- Admiral  Arthur  Everard  Bart  ram,  of  St.  Crux-in-the-Marsh, 
Essex,  sole  executor  of  this  my  will." 

"  Have  you  written  those  words,  sir  ?" 

"  Yes." 

Mrs.  Lccount  laid  down  the  Draft ;  Noel  Vanstone  laid  down  the 
pen.  They  neither  of  them  looked  at  each  other.  There  was  a 
long  silence. 

"  I  am  waiting,  Mr.  Noel,"  said  Mrs.  Lecount,  at  last,  "  to  hear 
what  your  wishes  are  in  respect  to  the  disposal  of  your  fortune. 
Your  large  fortune,"  she  added,  with  merciless  emphasis. 

He  took  up  the  pen  again,  and  began  picking  the  feathers  from 
the  quill  in  dead  silence. 

"  Perhaps  your  existing  will  may  help  you  to  instruct  me,  sir,"  pur- 
sued Mrs.  Lecount.  "  May  I  inquire  to  whom  you  left  all  your  sur- 
plus money,  after  leaving  the  eighty  thousand  pounds  to  your  wife  ?" 

If  he  had  answered  that  question  plainly,  he  must  have  said,  "  I 
have  left  the  whole  surplus  to  my  cousin,  George  Bartram" — and 
the  implied  acknowledgment  that  Mrs.  Lecount's  name  was  not  men- 
tioned in  the  will  must  then  have  followed  in  Mrs.  Lecount's  pres- 
ence. A  much  bolder  man,  in  his  situation,  might  have  felt  the  same 
oppression  and  the  same  embarrassment  which  he  was  feeling  now. 
He  picked  the  last  morsel  of  feather  from  the  quill ;  and,  desper- 
ately leaping  the  pitfall  under  his  feet,  advanced  to  meet  Mrs.  Le- 
count's claims  on  him  of  his  own  accord. 

"  I  would  rather  not  talk  of  any  will  but  the  will  I  am  making 
now,"  he  said,  uneasily.  "  The  first  thing,  Lecount — "  He  hesita- 
ted— put  the  bare  end  of  the  quill  into  his  mouth — gnawed  at  it 
thoughtfully — and  said  no  more. 

"  Yes,  sir  ?"  persisted  Mrs.  Lecount. 

"  The  first  thing  is — " 

"  Yes,  sir  ?" 

"  The  first  thing  is,  to — to  make  some  provision  for  You  ?" 

He  spoke  the  last  words  in  a  tone  of  plaintive  interrogation — as 
if  all  hope  of  being  met  by  a  magnanimous  refusal  had  not  deserted 
him  even  yet.  Mrs.  Lecount  enlightened  his  mind  on  this  point, 
without  a  moment's  loss  of  time. 

"Thank  you,  Mr.  Noel,"  she  said,  with  the  tone  and  manner  of  a 
woman  who  was  not  acknowledging  a  favor,  but  receiving  a  right. 

He  took  another  bite  at  the  quill.  The  perspiration  began  to 
appear  on  his  face. 


466  NO    NAME. 

"  The  difficulty  is,"  he  remarked,  "  to  say  how  much." 
"Your  lamented  father,  sir,"  rejoined  Mrs.  Lecount,  "met  that 
difficulty  (if  you  remember)  at  the  time  of  his  last  illness  ?" 
"  I  don't  remember,"  said  Noel  Vanstone,  doggedly. 

"  You  were  on  one  side  of  his  bed,  sir,  and  I  was  on  the  other. 
We  were  vainly  trying  to  persuade  him  to  make  his  will.  After 
telling  us  he  would  wait,  and  make  his  will  when  he  was  well  again, 
he  looked  round  at  me,  and  said  some  kind  and  feeling  words  which 
my  memory  will  treasure  to  my  dying  day.  Have  you  forgotten 
those  words,  Mr.  Noel  ?" 

"  Yes,"  said  Mr.  Noel,  without  hesitation. 

"In  my  present  situation,  sir,"  retorted  Mrs.  Lecount,  "  delicacy 
forbids  me  to  improve  your  memory." 

She  looked  at  her  watch,  and  relapsed  into  silence.  He  clenched 
his  hands,  and  writhed  from  side  to  side  of  his  chair  in  an  agony 
of  indecision.  Mrs.  Lecount  passively  refused  to  take  the  slightest 
notice  of  him. 

"What  should  you  say—?"  he  began,  and  suddenly  stopped 
again. 

"  Yes,  sir  ?" 

"  What  should  you  say  to — a  thousand  pounds?" 

Mrs.  Lecount  rose  from  her  chair,  and  looked  him  full  in  the  face, 
with  the  majestic  indignation  of  an  outraged  woman. 

"After  the  service  I  have  rendered  you  to-day,  Mr.  Noel,"  she 
said,  "  I  have  at  least  earned  a  claim  on  your  respect,  if  I  have  earn- 
ed nothing  more.     I  wish  you  good-inoming." 

"  Two  thousand !"  cried  Noel  Vanstone,  with  the  courage  of 
despair. 

Mrs.  Lecount  folded  up  her  papers,  and  hung  her  traveling-bag 
over  her  arm  in  contemptuous  silence. 

"  Three  thousand !" 

Mrs.  Lecount  moved  with  impenetrable  dignity  from  the  table  to 
the  door. 

"  Four  thousand !" 

Mrs.  Lecount  gathered  her  shawl  round  her  with  a  shudder,  and 
opened  the  door. 

"Five  thousand!" 

He  clasped  his  hands,  and  wrung  them  at  her  in  a  frenzy  of  rage 
and  suspense.  "  Five  thousand,"  was  the  death-cry  of  his  pecuniary 
suicide. 

Mrs.  Lecount  softly  shut  the  door  again,  and  came  back  a  step. 

"  Free  of  legacy  duty,  sir  ?"  she  inquired. 

"No!" 

Mrs.  Lecount  turned  on  her  heel,  and  opened  the  door  again. 

"Yes." 


MKS.  LECOUNT  MOVED  WITH  IMPENETRABLE  DIGNITY  FROM  THE  TABLE  TO 
THE  DOOR. 


NO    NAME.  469 

Mrs.  Lecount  came  back,  and  resumed  her  place  at  the  table  as  if 
nothing  had  happened. 

"  Five  thousand  pounds,  free  of  legacy  duty,  was  the  sum,  sir, 
which  your  father's  grateful  regard  promised  me  in  his  will,"  she 
said,  quietly.  "  If  you  choose  to  exert  your  memory,  as  you  have 
not  chosen  to  exert  it  yet,  your  memory  will  tell  you  that  I  speak 
the  truth.  I  accept  your  filial  performance  of  your  father's  prom 
ise,  Mr.  Noel — and  there  I  stop.  I  scorn  to  take  a  mean  advantage 
of  my  position  toward  you ;  I  scorn  to  grasp  any  thing  from  your 
fears.  You  are  protected  by  my  respect  for  myself,  and  for  the  Il- 
lustrious Name  I  bear.  You  are  welcome  to  all  that  I  have  done, 
and  to  all  that  I  have  suffered  in  your  service.  The  widow  of 
Professor  Lecompte,  sir,  takes  what  is  justly  hers — and  takes  no 
more !" 

As  she  spoke  those  words,  the  traces  of  sickness  seemed,  for  the 
moment,  to  disappear  from  her  face ;  her  eyes  shone  with  a  steady 
inner  light ;  all  the  woman  warmed  and  brightened  in  the  radiance 
of  her  own  triumph — the  triumph,  trebly  won,  of  carrying  her  point, 
of  vindicating  her  integrity,  and  of  matching  Magdalen's  incorrupt- 
ible self-denial  on  Magdalen's  own  ground. 

"  When  you  are  yourself  again,  sir,  we  will  proceed.  Let  us  wait 
a  little  first." 

She  gave  him  time  to  compose  himself;  and  then,  after  first  look- 
ing at  her  Draft,  dictated  the  second  paragraph  of  the  will,  in  these 
terms : 

"  I  give  and  bequeath  to  Madame  Virginie  Lecompte  (widow 
of  Professor  Lecompte,  late  of  Zurich)  the  sum  of  Five  Thousand 
Pounds,  free  of  Legacy  Duty.  And,  in  making  this  bequest,  I  wish 
to  place  it  on  record  that  I  am  not  only  expressing  my  own  sense  of 
Madame  Lecompte's  attachment  and  fidelity  in  the  capacity  of  my 
housekeeper,  but  that  I  also  believe  myself  to  be  executing  the  in- 
tentions of  my  deceased  father,  who,  but  for  the  circumstance  of  his 
dying  intestate,  would  have  left  Madame  Lecompte,  in  his  will,  the 
same  token  of  grateful  regard  for  her  services  which  I  now  leave 
her  in  mine." 

"  Have  you  written  the  last  words,  sir  ?" 

"  Yes." 

Mrs.  Lecount  leaned  across  the  table  and  offered  Noel  Vanstone 
her  hand. 

"  Thank  you,  Mr  Noel,"  she  said.  "The  five  thousand  pounds  is 
the  acknowledgment  on  your  father's  side  of  what  I  have  done  for 
him.     The  words  in  the  will  are  the  acknowledgment  on  yours." 

A  faint  smile  flickered  over  his  face  for  the  first  time.     It  com- 


470  NO    NAME. 

forted  him,  on  reflection,  to  think  that  matters  might  have  been 
worse.  There  was  balm  for  his  wounded  spirit,  in  paying  the. debt 
of  gratitude  by  a  sentence  not  negotiable  at  his  banker's.  What- 
ever his  father  might  have  done,  he  had  got  Lecount  a  bargain, 
after  all ! 

"  A  little  more  writing,  sir,"  resumed  Mrs.  Lecount,  "  and  your 
painful  but  necessary  duty  will  be  performed.  The  trifling  matter 
of  my  legacy  being  settled,  we  may  come  to  the  important  question 
that  is  left.  The  future  direction  of  a  large  fortune  is  now  waiting 
your  word  of  command.     To  whom  is  it  to  go  ?" 

He  began  to  writhe  again  in  his  chair.  Even  under  the  all-pow- 
erful fascination  of  his  wife,  the  parting  with  his  money  on  paper 
had  not  been  accomplished  without  a  pang.  He  had  endured  the 
pang;  he  had  resigned  himself  to  the  sacrifice.  And  now  here  was 
the  dreaded  ordeal  again,  awaiting  him  mercilessly  for  the  second 
time ! 

"  Perhaps  it  may  assist  your  decision,  sir,  if  I  repeat  a  question 
which  I  have  put  to  you  already,"  observed  Mrs.  Lecount.  "  In  the 
will  that  you  made  under  your  wife's  influence,  to  whom  did  you 
leave  the  surplus  money  which  remained  at  your  own  disposal  ?" 

There  was  no  harm  in  answering  the  question  now.  He  acknowl- 
edged that  he  had  left  the  money  to  his  cousin  George. 

"  You  could  have  done  nothing  better,  Mr.  Noel ;  and  you  can  do 
nothing  better  now,"  said  Mrs.  Lecount.  "  Mr.  George  and  his  two 
sisters  are  your  only  relations  left.  One  of  those  sisters  is  an  in- 
curable invalid,  with  more  than  money  enough  already  for  all  the 
wants  which  her  affliction  allows  her  to  feel.  The  other  is  the  wife 
of  a  man,  even  richer  than  yourself.  To  leave  the  money  to  these 
sisters  is  to  waste  it.  To  leave  the  money  to  their  brother  George 
is  to  give  your  cousin  exactly  the  assistance  which  he  will  want 
when  he  one  day  inherits  his  uncle's  dilapidated  house,  and  his 
uncle's  impoverished  estate.  A  will  which  names  the  admiral  your 
executor,  and  Mr.  George  your  heir,  is  the  right  will  for  you  to  make. 
It  does  honor  to  the  claims  of  friendship,  and  it  does  justice  to  the 
claims  of  blood." 

She  spoke  warmly  ;  for  she  spoke  with  a  grateful  remembrance 
of  all  that  she  herself  owed  to  the  hospitality  of  St.  Crux.  Noel 
Vanstone  took  up  another  pen,  and  began  to  strip  the  second  quill 
of  its  feathers  as  he  had  stripped  the  first. 

"  Yes,"  he  said,  reluctantly,  "  I  suppose  George  must  have  it — I 
suppose  George  has  the  principal  claim  on  me."  He  hesitated :  he 
looked  at  the  door,  he  looked  at  the  window,  as  if  he  longed  to  make 
his  escape  by  one  way  or  the  other.  "  Oh,  Lecount,"  he  cried,  pit- 
eously,  "  it's  such  a  large  fortune !  Let  me  wait  a  little  before  I 
leave  it  to  any  body." 


NO    NAME.  471 

To  his  surprise,  Mrs.  Lecount  at  once  complied  with  this  charac- 
teristic request. 

"I  wish  you  to  wait,  sir,"  she  replied.  "  I  have  something  im- 
portant to  say,  before  you  add  another  line  to  your  will.  A  little 
while  since,  I  told  you  there  was  a  second  necessity  connected  with 
your  present  situation,  which  had  not  been  provided  for  yet,  but 
which  must  be  provided  for,  when  the  time  came.  The  time  has 
come  now.  You  have  a  serious  difficulty  to  meet  and  conquer  be- 
fore you  can  leave  your  fortune  to  your  cousin  George." 

"  What  difficulty  ?"  he  asked. 

Mrs.  Lecount  rose  from  her  chair  without  answering,  stole  to  the 
door,  and  suddenly  threw  it  open.  No  one  was  listening  outside  ; 
the  passage  was  a  solitude,  from  one  end  to  the  other. 

"  I  distrust  all  servants,"  she  said,  returning  to  her  place — "  your 
servants  particularly.  Sit  closer,  Mr.  Noel.  What  I  have  now  to 
say  to  you  must  be  heard  by  no  living  creature  but  ourselves." 


CHAPTER  in. 

There  was  a  pause  of  a  few  minutes  while  Mrs.  Lecount  opened 
the  second  of  the  two  papers  which  lay  before  her  on  the  table,  and 
refreshed  her  memory  by  looking  it  rapidly  through.  This  done, 
she  once  more  addressed  herself  to  Noel  Vanstone,  carefully  lower- 
ing her  voice,  so  as  to  render  it  inaudible  to  any  one  who  might  be 
listening  in  the  passage  outside. 

"  I  must  beg  your  permission,  sir,"  she  began,  "  to  return  to  the 
subject  of  your  wife.  I  do  so  most  unwillingly  ;  and  I  promise  you 
that  what  I  have  now  to  say  about  her  shall  be  said,  for  your  sake 
and  for  mine,  in  the  fewest  words.  What  do  we  know  of  this  wom- 
an, Mr.  Noel — judging  her  by  her  own  confession  when  she  came  to 
us  in  the  character  of  Miss  Garth,  and  by  her  own  acts  afterward  at 
Aldborough  ?  We  know  that,  if  death  had  not  snatched  your  fa- 
ther out  of  her  reach,  she  was  ready  with  her  plot  to  rob  him  of  the 
Combe-Raven  money.  We  know  that,  when  you  inherited  the  mon- 
ey in  your  turn,  she  was  ready  with  her  plot  to  rob  you.  We  know 
how  she  carried  that  plot  through  to  the  end ;  and  we  know  that 
nothing  but  your  death  is  wanted,  at  this  moment,  to  crown  her 
rapacity  and  her  deception  with  success.  We  are  sure  of  these 
things.  We  are  sure  that  she  is  young,  bold,  and  clever — that  she 
has  neither  doubts,  scruples,  nor  pity — and  that  she  possesses  the 
personal  qualities  which  men  in  general  (quite  incomprehensibly  to 
me /)  are  weak  enough  to  admire.  These  are  not  fancies,  Mr.  Noel, 
but  facts ;  you  know  them  as  well  as  I  do." 

He  made  a  sign  in  the  affirmative,  and  Mrs.  Lecount  went  on : 


472  NO    NAME. 

"  Keep  in  your  mind  what  I  have  said  of  the  past,  sir,  and  now 
look  with  me  to  the  future.  I  hope  and  trust  you  have  a  long  life 
still  before  you;  but  let  us,  for  the  moment  only,  suppose  the  case 
of  your  death — your  death  leaving  this  will  behind  you,  which  gives 
your  fortune  to  your  cousin  George.  I  am  told  there  is  an  office 
in  London  in  which  copies  of  all  wills  must  be  kept.  Any  curious 
stranger  who  chooses  to  pay  a  shilling  for  the  privilege  may  enter 
that  office,  and  may  read  any  will  in  the  place  at  his  or  her  discre- 
tion. Do  you  see  what  I  am  coming  to,  Mr.  Noel  ?  Your  disinher- 
ited widow  pays  her  shilling,  and  reads  your  will.  Your  disinher- 
ited widow  sees  that  the  Combe-Raven  money,  which  has  gone 
from  your  father  to  you,  goes  next  from  you  to  Mr.  George  Bar- 
tram.  What  is  the  certain  end  of  that  discovery  ?  The  end  is,  that 
you  leave  to  your  cousin  and  your  friend  the  legacy  of  this  woman's 
vengeance  and  this  woman's  deceit — vengeance  made  more  resolute, 
deceit  made  more  devilish  than  ever,  by  her  exasperatiou  at  her  own 
failure.  What  is  your  cousin  George  ?  He  is  a  generous,  unsuspi- 
cious man;  incapable  of  deceit  himself,  and  fearing  no  deception  in 
others.  Leave  him  at  the  mercy  of  your  wife's  unscrupulous  fasci- 
nations and  your  wife's  umfathoinable  deceit,  and  I  see  the  end  as 
certainly  as  I  see  you  sitting  there !  She  will  bbnd  his  eyes,  as  she 
blinded  yours ;  and,  in  spite  of  yo»,  in  spite  of  me,  she  will  have  the 
money !" 

She  stopped,  and  left  her  last  words  time  to  gain  their  hold  on 
his  mind.  The  circumstances  had  been  stated  so  clearly,  the  con- 
clusion from  them  had  been  so  plainly  drawn,  that  he  seized  her 
meaning  without  an  effort,  and  seized  it  at  once. 

"  I  see !"  he  said,  vindictively  clenching  his  hands.  "  I  under- 
stand, Lecount !  She  sha'n't  have  a  farthing.  What  shall  I  do? 
Shall  I  leave  the  money  to  the  admiral  ?"  He  paused,  and  consid- 
ered a  little.  "  No,"  he  resumed ;  "  there's  the  same  danger  in  leav- 
ing it  to  the  admiral  that  there  is  in  leaving  it  to  George." 

"  There  is  no  danger,  Mr.  Noel,  if  you  take  my  advice." 

"  What  is  your  advice  V ' 

"  Follow  your  own  idea,  sir.  Take  the  pen  in  hand  again,  and 
leave  the  money  to  Admiral  Bartram." 

He  mechanically  dipped  the  pen  in  the  ink,  and  then  hesitated. 

"  You  shall  know  where  I  am  leading  you,  sir,"  said  Mrs.  Lecount, 
M  before  you  sign  your  will.  In  the  mean  time,  let  us  gain  every 
inch  of  ground  we  can,  as  we  go  on.  I  want  the  will  to  be  all  writ- 
ten out  before  we  advance  a  single  step  beyond  it.  Begin  your 
third  paragraph,  Mr.  Noel,  under  the  lines  which  leave  me  my  lega- 
cy of  rive  thousand  pounds." 

She  dictated  the  last  momentous  sentence  of  the  will  (from  the 
rough  draft  in  her  own  possession)  in  these  words  : 


NO  NAME.  473 

"The  whole  residue  of  my  estate,  after  payment  of  my  burial  ex- 
penses and  my  lawful  debts,  I  give  and  bequeath  to  Rear-Admiral 
Arthur  Everard  Bartram,  my  Executor  aforesaid;  to  be  by  him  ap- 
plied to  such  uses  as  he  may  think  fit. 

"  Signed,  sealed,  and  delivered,  this  third  day  of  November,  eight- 
een hundred  and  forty-seven,  by  Noel  Vanstone,  the  within-named 
testator,  as  and  for  his  last  Will  and  Testament,  in  the  presence 
of  us — " 

"  Is  that  all  ?"  asked  Noel  Vanstone,  in  astonishment. 

"  That  is  enough,  sir,  to  bequeath  your  fortune  to  the  admiral ; 
and  therefore  that  is  all.  Now  let  us  go  back  to  the  case  which  we 
have  supposed  already.  Your  widow  pays  her  shilling,  and  sees 
this  will.  There  is  the  Combe-Raven  money  left  to  Admiral  Bar- 
tram,  with  a  declaration  in  plain  words  that  it  is  his,  to  use  as  he 
likes.  When  she  sees  this,  what  does  she  do  ?  She  sets  her  trap 
for  the  admiral.  He  is  a  bachelor,  and  he  is  an  old  man.  Who  is 
to  protect  him  against  the  arts  of  this  desperate  woman  ?  Protect 
him  yourself,  sir,  with  a  few  more  strokes  of  that  pen  which  has 
done  such  wonders  already.  You  have  left  him  this  legacy  in  your 
will — which  your  wife  sees.  Take  the  legacy  away  again,  in  a  let- 
ter— which  is  a  dead  secret  between  the  admiral  and  you.  Put  the 
will  and  the  letter  under  one  cover,  and  place  them  in  the  admiral's 
possession,  with  your  written  directions  to  him  to  break  the  seal  on 
the  day  of  your  death.  Let  the  will  say  what  it  says  now ;  and  let 
the  letter  (which  is  your  secret  and  his)  tell  him  the  truth.  Say 
that,  in  leaving  him  your  fortune,  you  leave  it  with  the  request  that 
he  will  take  his  legacy  with  one  hand  froni  you,  and  give  it  with 
the  other  to  his  nephew  George.  Tell  him  that  your  trust  in  this 
matter  rests  solely  on  your  confidence  in  his  honor,  and  on  your  be- 
lief in  his  affectionate  remembrance  of  your  father  and  yourself. 
You  have  known  the  admiral  since  you  were  a  boy.  He  has  his  lit- 
tle whims  and  oddities  ;  but  he  is  a  gentleman  from  the  crown  of  his 
head  to  the  sole  of  his  foot ;  and  he  is  utterly  incapable  of  proving 
false  to  a  trust  in  his  honor,  reposed  by  his  dead  friend.  Meet  the 
difficulty  boldly,  by  such  a  stratagem  as  this  ;  and  you  save  these 
two  helpless  men  from  your  wife's  snare,  one  by  means  of  the  other. 
Here,  on  one  side,  is  your  will,  which  gives  the  fortune  to  the  ad- 
miral, and  sets  her  plotting  accordingly.  And  there,  on  the  other 
side,  is  your  letter,  which  privately  puts  the  money  into  the  neph- 
ew's hands !" 

The  malicious  dexterity  of  this  combination  was  exactly  the  dex- 
terity which  Noel  Vanstone  was  most  fit  to  appreciate.  He  tried  to 
express  his  approval  and  admiration  in  words.  Mrs.  Lecount  held 
up  her  hand  warningly,  and  closed  his  lips. 


474  NO   NAME. 

"  Wait,  sir,  before  you  express  your  opinion,"  she  went  on. 
"  Half  the  difficulty  is  all  that  we  have  conquered  yet.  Let  us  say, 
the  admiral  has  made  the  use  of  your  legacy  which  you  have  pri- 
vately requested  him  to  make  of  it.  Sooner  or  later,  however  well 
the  secret  may  be  kept,  your  wife  will  discover  the  truth.  What 
follows  that  discovery?  She  lays  siege  to  Mr.  George.  All  you 
have  done  is  to  leave  him  the  money  by  a  roundabout  way.  There 
he  is,  after  an  interval  of  time,  as  much  at  her  mercy  as  if  you  had 
openly  mentioned  him  in  your  will.  What  is  the  remedy  for  this  ? 
The  remedy  is  to  mislead  her,  if  we  can,  for  the  second  time — to 
set  up  an  obstacle  between  her  and  the  money,  for  the  protection 
of  your  cousin  George.  Can  you  guess  for  yourself,  Mr.  Noel,  what 
is  the  most  promising  obstacle  we  can  put  in  her  way  ?" 

He  shook  his  head.  Mrs.  Lecount  smiled,  and  startled  him  into 
close  attention  by  laying  her  hand  on  his  arm. 

"  Put  a  Woman  in  her  way,  sir !"  she  whispered  in  her  wiliest 
tones.  "  We  don't  believe  in  that  fascinating  beauty  of  hers — what- 
ever you  may  do.  Our  lips  don't  burn  to  kiss  those  smooth  cheeks. 
Our  arms  don't  long  to  be  round  that  supple  waist.  We  see  through 
her  smiles  and  her  graces,  and  her  stays  and  her  padding — she  can't 
fascinate  us!  Put  a  woman  in  her  way,  Mr.  Noel !  Not  a  woman 
in  my  helpless  situation,  who  is  only  a  servant,  but  a  woman  with 
the  authority  and  the  jealousy  of  a  Wife.  Make  it  a  condition,  in 
your  letter  to  the  admiral,  that  if  Mr.  George  is  a  bachelor  at  the 
time  of  your  death,  he  shall  marry  within  a  certain  time  afterward, 
or  he  shall  not  have  the  legacy.  Suppose  he  remains  single  in  spite 
of  your  condition,  who  is  to  have  the  money  then  ?  Put  a  woman 
in  your  wife's  way,  sir,  once  more — and  leave  the  fortune,  in  that 
case,  to  the  married  sister  of  your  cousin  George." 

She  paused.  Noel  Vanstone  again  attempted  to  express  his  opin- 
ion, and  again  Mrs.  Lecount's  hand  extinguished  him  in  silence. 

"  If  you  approve,  Mr.  Noel,"  she  said,  "  I  will  take  your  approval 
for  granted.  If  you  object,  I  will  meet  your  objection  before  it  is 
out  of  your  mouth.  You  may  say  :  Suppose  this  condition  is  suffi- 
cient to  answer  the  purpose,  why  hide  it  in  a  private  letter  to  the 
admiral  ?  Why  not  openly  write  it  down,  with  my  cousin's  name, 
in  the  will  ?  Only  for  one  reason,  sir.  Only  because  the  secret  way 
is  the  sure  way,  with  such  a  woman  as  your  wife.  The  more  secret 
you  can  keep  your  intentions,  the  more  time  you  force  her  to  waste 
in  finding  them  out  for  herself.  That  time  which  she  loses,  is  time 
gained  from  her  treachery  by  the  admiral  —  time  gained  by  Mr. 
George  (if  he  is  still  a  bachelor)  for  his  undisturbed  choice  of  a  lady 
— time  gained,  for  her  own  security,  by  the  object  of  his  choice, 
who  might  otherwise  be  the  first  object  of  your  wife's  suspicion  and 
your  wife's  hostility.     Remember  the  bottle  we  have  discovered  up 


NO    NAME.  475 

stairs;  and  keep  this  desperate  woman  ignorant,  and  therefore 
harmless,  as  long  as  you  can.  There  is  my  advice,  Mr.  Noel,  in  the 
fewest  and  plainest  words.  What  do  you  say,  sir  ?  Am  I  almost  as 
clever  in  my  way  as  your  friend  Mr.  Bygrave?  Can  I,  too,  conspire 
a  little,  when  the  object  of  my  conspiracy  is  to  assist  your  wishes 
and  to  protect  your  friends  ?" 

Permitted  the  use  of  his  tongue  at  last,  Noel  Vanstone's  admira- 
tion of  Mrs.  Lecount  expressed  itself  in  terms  precisely  similar  to 
those  which  he  had  used  on  a  former  occasion,  in  paying  his  com- 
pliments to  Captain  Wragge.  "  What  a  head  you  have  got !"  were 
the  grateful  words  which  he  had  once  spoken  to  Mrs.  Lecount's  bit- 
terest enemy.  "  What  a  head  you  have  got !"  were  the  grateful 
words  which  he  now  spoke  again  to  Mrs.  Lecount  herself.  So  do 
extremes  meet ;  and  such  is  sometimes  the  all-embracing  capacity 
of  the  approval  of  a  fool ! 

"Allow  my  head,  sir,  to  deserve  the  compliment  which  you  have 
paid  to  it,"  said  Mrs.  Lecount.  "  The  letter  to  the  admiral  is  not 
written  yet.  Your  will  there  is  a  body  without  a  soul — an  Adam 
without  an  Eve — until  the  letter  is  completed  and  laid  by  its  side. 
A  little  more  dictation  on  my  part,  a  little  more  writing  on  yours, 
and  our  work  is  done.  Pardon  me.  The  letter  will  be  longer 
than  the  will ;  we  must  have  larger  paper  than  the  note-paper  this 
time." 

The  writing-case  was  searched,  and  some  letter-paper  was  found 
in  it  of  the  size  required.  Mrs.  Lecount  resumed  her  dictation ; 
and  Noel  Vanstone  resumed  his  pen. 

"  Baliol  Cottage,  Dumfries, 
"Private.  "November  3d,  1S47. 

"  Dear  Admiral  Bartram, — When  you  open  my  Will  (in  which 
you  are  named  my  sole  executor),  you  will  find  that  I  have  be- 
queathed the  whole  residue  of  my  estate — after  payment  of  one  lega- 
cy of  five  thousand  pounds — to  yourself.  It  is  the  purpose  of  my 
letter  to  tell  you  privately  what  the  object  is  for  which  I  have  left 
you  the  fortune  which  is  now  placed  in  your  hands. 

"  I  beg  you  to  consider  this  large  legacy  as  intended,  under  cer- 
tain conditions,  to  be  given  by  you  to  your  nephew  George.  If 
your  nephew  is  married  at  the  time  of  my  death,  and  if  his  wife  is 
living,  I  request  you  to  put  him  at  once  in  possession  of  your  lega- 
cy ;  accompanying  it  by  the  expression  of  my  desire  (which  I  am 
sure  he  will  consider  a  sacred  and  binding  obligation  on  him)  that 
he  will  settle  the  money  on  his  wife — and  on  his  children,  if  he  has 
any.  If,  on  the  other  hand,  he  is  unmarried  at  the  time  of  my 
death,  or  if  he  is  a  widower — in  either  of  those  cases,  I  make  it  a 
condition  of  his  receiving  the  legacy,  that  he  shall  be  married  with- 
in the  period  of — " 


476  NO  NAME. 

Mrs.  Lecount  laid  down  the  Draft  letter  from  which  she  had  been 
dictating  thus  far,  and  informed  Noel  Vanstone  by  a  sign  that  his 
pen  might  rest. 

"  We  have  come  to  the  question  of  time,  sir,"  she  observed. 
"  How  long  will  you  give  your  cousin  to  marry,  if  he  is  single,  or  a 
widower,  at  the  time  of  your  death  ?" 

u  Shall  I  give  him  a  year  ?"  inquired  Noel  Vanstone. 

"  If  we  had  nothing  to  consider  but  the  interests  of  Propriety," 
said  Mrs.  Lecount,  "  I  should  say  a  year  too,  sir — especially  if  Mr. 
George  should  happen  to  be  a  widower.  But  we  have  your  wife  to 
consider,  as  well  as  the  interests  of  Propriety.  A  year  of  delay,  be- 
tween your  death  and  your  cousin's  marriage,  is  a  dangerously  long 
time  to  leave  the  disposal  of  your  fortune  in  suspense.  Give  a  de- 
termined woman  a  year  to  plot  and  contrive  in,  and  there  is  no  say- 
ing what  she  may  not  do." 

"  Six  months  ?"  suggested  Noel  Vanstone. 

"  Six  months,  sir,"  rejoined  Mrs.  Lecouut,  "  is  the  preferable  time 
of  the  two.  A  six  months'  interval  from  the  day  of  your  death  is 
enough  for  Mr.  George.  You  look  discomposed,  sir ;  what  is  the 
matter  ?" 

"  I  wish  you  wouldn't  talk  so  much  about  my  death,"  he  broke 
out,  petulantly.  "  I  don't  like  it !  I  hate  the  very  sound  of  the 
word  !" 

Mrs.  Lecount  smiled  resignedly,  and  referred  to  her  Draft. 

"I  see  the  word  'decease'  written  here,"  she  remarked.  "Per- 
haps, Mr.  Noel,  you  would  prefer  it  ?" 

"  Yes,"  he  said ;  "  I  prefer  '  Decease.'  It  doesn't  sound  so  dread- 
ful as  ' Death.'" 

"Let  us  go  on  with  the  letter,  sir." 

She  resumed  her  dictation,  as  follows : 

" in  either  of  those  cases,  I  make  it  a  condition  of  his  re- 
ceiving the  legacy  that  he  shall  be  married  within  the  period  of  Six 
calendar  months  from  the  day  of  my  decease ;  that  the  woman  he 
marries  shall  not  be  a  widow ;  and  that  his  marriage  shall  be  a  mar- 
riage by  Banns,  publicly  celebrated  in  the  parish  church  of  Ossory — 
where  he  has  been  known  from  his  childhood,  and  where  the  fam- 
ily and  circumstances  of  his  future  wife  are  likely  to  be  the  subject 
of  public  interest  and  inquiry." 

"  This,"  said  Mrs.  Lecount,  quietly  looking  up  from  the  Draft,  "  is 
to  protect  Mr.  George,  sir,  in  case  the  same  trap  is  set  for  him  which 
was  successfully  set  for  you.  She  will  not  find  her  false  character 
and  her  false  name  fit  quite  so  easily  next  time — no,  not  even  with 
Mr.  Bygrave  to  help  her  !  Another  dip  of  ink,  Mr.  Noel ;  let  us 
write  the  next  paragraph.     Are  you  ready  ?" 


NO    NAME.  477 


"  Yes." 

Mrs.  Lecount  went  on : 


"  If  your  nephew  fails  to  comply  with  these  conditions — that  is 
to  say,  if,  being  either  a  bachelor  or  a  Widow©*  at  the  time  of  my 
decease,  he  fails  to  marry  in  all  respects  as  I  have  here  instructed 
him  to  marry,  within  Six  calendar  months  from  that  time — it  is  my 
desire  that  he  shall  not  receive  the  legacy,  or  any  part  of  it.  I  re- 
quest you,  in  the  case  here  supposed,  to  pass  him  over  altogether ; 
and  to  give  the  fortune  left  you  in  my  will  to  his  married  sister, 
Mrs.  Girdlestone. 

"  Having  now  put  you  in  possession  of  my  motives  and  inten- 
tions, I  come  to  the  next  question  which  it  is  necessary  to  consider. 
If,  when  you  open  this  letter,  your  nephew  is  an  unmarried  man,  it 
is  clearly  indispensable  that  he  should  know  of  the  conditions  here 
imposed  on  him,  as  soon,  if  possible,  as  you  know  of  them  yourself. 
Are  you,  under  these  circumstances,  freely  to  communicate  to  him 
what  I  have  here  written  to  you  ?  Or  are  you  to  leave  him  under 
the  impression  that  no  such  private  expression  of  my  wishes  as  this 
is  in  existence  ;  and  are  you  to  state  all  the  conditions  relating  to 
his  marriage,  as  if  they  emanated  entirely  from  yourself? 

"  If  you  will  adopt  this  latter  alternative,  you  will  add  one  more 
to  the  many  obligations  under  which  your  friendship  has  placed  me. 

"  I  have  serious  reason  to  believe  that  the  possession  of  my  mon- 
ey, and  the  discovery  of  any  peculiar  arrangements  relating  to  the 
disposal  of  it,  will  be  objects  (after  my  decease)  of  the  fraud  and 
conspiracy  of  an  Unscrupulous  person.  I  am  therefore  anxious — for 
your  sake,  in  the  first  place — that  no  suspicion  of  the  existence  of 
this  letter  should  be  conveyed  to  the  mind  of  the  person  to  whom 
I  allude.  And  I  am  equally  desirous  —  for  Mrs.  Girdlestone's  sake, 
in  the  second  place — that  this  same  person  should  be  entirely  igno- 
rant that  the  legacy  will  pass  into  Mrs.  Girdlestone's  possession,  if 
your  nephew  is  not  married  in  the  given  time.  I  know  George's 
easy,  pliable  disposition  ;  I  dread  the  attempts  that  will  be  made  to 
practice  on  it ;  and  I  feel  sure  that  the  prudent  course  will  be,  to 
abstain  from  trusting  him  with  secrets,  the  rash  revelation  of  which 
might  be  followed  by  serious,  and  even  dangerous  results. 

"  State  the  conditions,  therefore,  to  your  nephew,  as  if  they  were 
your  own.  Let  him  think  they  have  been  suggested  to  your  mind 
by  the  new  responsibilities  imposed  on  you  as  a  man  of  property, 
by  your  position  in  my  will,  and  by  your  consequent  anxiety  to  pro- 
vide for  the  perpetuation  of  the  family  name.  If  these  reasons  are 
not  sufficient  to  satisfy  him,  there  can  be  no  objection  to  your  re- 
ferring him,  for  any  further  explanations  which  he  may  desire,  to 
his  wedding-day. 


478  NO    NAME. 

"  I  have  done.  My  last  wishes  are  now  confided  to  you,  in  im- 
plicit reliance  on  your  honor,  and  on  your  tender  regard  for  the 
memory  of  your  friend.  Of  the  miserable  circumstances  which 
compel  me  to  write  as  I  have  written  here,  I  say  nothing.  You 
will  hear  of  them,  if  my  life  is  spared,  from  my  own  lips — for  you 
will  be  the  first  friend  whom  I  shall  consult  in  my  difficulty  and 
distress.  Keep  this  letter  strictly  secret,  and  strictly  in  your  own 
possession,  until  my  requests  are  complied  with.  Let  no  human  be- 
ing but  yourself  know  where  it  is,  on  any  pretense  whatever. 

"  Believe  me,  dear  Admiral  Bartram,  affectionately  yours, 

"  Noel  Vanstone." 

"  Have  you  signed,  sir  ?"  asked  Mrs.  Lecount.  "  Let  me  look  the 
letter  over,  if  you  please,  before  we  seal  it  up." 

She  read  the  letter  carefully.  In  Noel  Vanstone's  close,  cramped 
handwriting,  it  filled  two  pages  of  letter-paper,  and  ended  at  the 
top  of  the  third  page.  Instead  of  using  an  envelojje,  Mrs.  Lecount 
folded  it,  neatly  and  securely,  in  the  old-fashioned  way.  She  lit  the 
taper  in  the  inkstand,  and  returned  the  letter  to  the  writer. 

"  Seal  it,  Mr.  Noel,"  she  said,  "  with  your  own  hand,  and  your  own 
seal."  She  extinguished  the  taper,  and  handed  him  the  pen  again. 
"Address  the  letter,  sir,"  she  proceeded,  "  to  Admiral  Bartram,  St. 
Crux-in-the-Marsh,  Essex.  Now  add  these  words,  and  sign  them, 
above  the  address  :  To  be  kept  in  your  own  possession,  and  to  be  open- 
ed by  yourself  only,  on  the  day  of  my  death — or  '  Decease,1  if  you  pre- 
fer it — Noel  Vanstone.  Have  you  done  ?  Let  me  look  at  it  again. 
Quite  right  in  every  particular.  Accept  my  congratulations,  sir. 
If  your  wife  has  not  plotted  her  last  plot  for  the  Combe  -  Raven 
money,  it  is  not  your  fault,  Mr.  Noel — and  not  mine  !" 

Finding  his  attention  released  by  the  completion  of  the  letter, 
Noel  Vanstone  reverted  at  once  to  purely  personal  considerations. 
"  There  is  my  packing-up  to  be  thought  of  now,"  he  said.  "  I  can't 
go  away  without  my  warm  things." 

"  Excuse  me,  sir,"  rejoined  Mrs.  Lecount,  "  there  is  the  Will  to  be 
signed  first ;  and  there  must  be  two  persons  found  to  witness  your 
signature."  She  looked  out  of  the  front  window,  and  saw  the  car- 
riage waiting  at  the  door.  "  The  coachman  will  do  for  one  of  the 
witnesses,"  she  said.  "  He  is  in  respectable  service  at  Dumfries,  and 
he  can  be  found  if  he  happens  to  be  wanted.  We  must  have  one 
of  your  own  servants,  I  suppose,  for  the  other  witness.  They  are  all 
detestable  women ;  but  the  cook  is  the  least  ill-looking  of  the  three. 
Send  for  the  cook,  sir,  while  I  go  out  and  call  the  coachman.  When 
we  have  got  our  witnesses  here,  you  have  only  to  speak  to  them  in 
these  words :  '  I  have  a  document  here  to  sign,  and  I  wish  you  to 
write  your  names  on  it,  as  witnesses  of  my  signature.'     Nothing 


NO    NAME.  479 

more,  Mr.  Noel !  Say  those  few  words  in  your  usual  manner — and, 
when  the  signing  is  over,  I  will  see  myself  to  your  packing-up,  and 
your  warm  tilings." 

She  went  to  the  front  door,  and  summoned  the  coachman  to  the 
parlor.  On  her  return,  she  found  the  cook  already  in  the  room. 
The  cook  looked  mysteriously  offended,  and  stared  without  inter 
mission  at  Mrs.  Lecount.  In  a  minute  more  the  coachman — an 
elderly  man  —  came  in.  He  was  preceded  by  a  relishing  odor  of 
whisky ;  but  his  head  was  Scotch  ;  and  nothing  but  his  odor  be- 
trayed him. 

"  I  have  a  document  here  to  sign,"  said  Noel  Vanstone,  repeating 
his  lesson ;  "  and  I  wish  you  to  write  your  names  on  it,  as  witnesses 
of  my  signature." 

The  coachman  looked  at  the  will.  The  cook  never  removed  her 
eyes  from  Mrs.  Lecount. 

"  Ye'll  no  object,  sir,"  said  the  coachman,  with  the  national  cau- 
tion showing  itself  in  every  wrinkle  on  his  face — "  ye'll  no  object, 
sir,  to  tell  me,  first,  what  the  Doecument  may  be  ?" 

Mrs.  Lecount  interposed  before  Noel  Vanstone's  indignation  could 
express  itself  in  words. 

"You  must  tell  the  man,  sir,  that  this  is  your  Will,"  she  said. 
"  When  he  witnesses  your  signature,  he  can  see  as  much  for  himself 
if  he  looks  at  the  top  of  the  page." 

"  Ay,  ay,"  said  the  coachman,  looking  at  the  top  of  the  page  im- 
mediately. "  His  last  Wull  and  Testament.  Hech,  sirs  !  there's  a 
sair  confronting  of  Death  in  a  Doecument  like  yon!  A'  flesh  is 
grass,"  continued  the  coachman,  exhaling  an  additional  puff  of 
whisky,  and  looking  up  devoutly  at  the  ceiling.  "Tak'  those 
words  in  connection  with  that  other  Screepture:  Many  are  ca'ad, 
but  few  are  chosen.  Tak'  that  again,  in  connection  with  Rev'la- 
tions,  Chapter  the  First,  verses  One  to  Fefteen.  Lay  the  whole 
to  heart ;  and  what's  your  Walth,  then  ?  Dross,  sirs  !  And  your 
body  ?  (Screepture  again.)  Clay  for  the  potter !  And  your  life  ? 
(Screepture  once  more.)     The  Breeth  o'  your  Nostrils  !" 

The  cook  listened  as  if  the  cook  was  at  church ;  but  she  never 
removed  her  eyes  from  Mrs.  Lecount. 

"You  had  better  sign,  sir.  This  is  apparently  some  custom  prev- 
alent in  Dumfries  during  the  transaction  of  business,"  said  Mrs.  Le- 
count, resignedly.     "  The  man  means  well,  I  dare  say." 

She  added  those  last  words  in  a  soothing  tone,  for  she  saw  that 
Noel  Vanstone's  indignation  was  fast  merging  into  alarm.  The 
coachman's  outburst  of  exhortation  seemed  to  have  inspired  him 
with  fear,  as  well  as  disgust. 

He  dipped  the  pen  in  the  ink,  and  signed  the  Will  without  utter" 
ing  a  word.     The  coachman  (descending  instantly  from  Theology 


480  NO    NAME. 

to  Business)  watched  the  signature  with  the  most  scrupulous  atten 
tion ;  and  signed  his  own  name  as  witness,  with  an  implied  com 
mentary  on  the  proceeding,  in  the  form  of  another  puff  of  whisky, 
exhaled  through  the  medium  of  a  heavy  sigh.  The  cook  looked 
away  from  Mrs.  Lecount  with  an  effort — signed  her  name  in  a  vio- 
lent hurry — and  looked  back  again  with  a  start,  as  if  she  expected 
to  see  a  loaded  pistol  (produced  in  the  interval)  in  the  housekeeper's 
hands.  "  Thank  you,"  said  Mrs.  Lecount,  in  her  friendliest  manner. 
The  cook  shut  up  her  lips  aggressively  and  looked  at  her  master. 
"  You  may  go  1"  said  her  master.  The  cook  coughed  contemptu- 
ously, and  went. 

"  We  sha'n't  keep  you  long,"  said  Mrs.  Lecount,  dismissing  the 
coachman.  "  In  half  an  hour,  or  less,  we  shall  be  ready  for  the 
journey  back." 

The  coachman's  austere  countenance  relaxed  for  the  first  time. 
He  smiled  mysteriously,  and  approached  Mrs.  Lecount  on  tiptoe. 

"  Ye'll  no  forget  one  thing,  my  leddy,"  he  said,  with  the  most  in- 
gratiating politeness.  "  Ye'll  no  forget  the  witnessing  as  weel  as 
the  driving,  when  ye  pay  me  for  my  day's  wark  !"  He  laughed  with 
guttural  gravity ;  and,  leaving  his  atmosphere  behind  him,  stalked 
out  of  the  room. 

"  Lecount,"  said  Noel  Vanstone,  as  soon  as  the  coachman  closed 
the  door,  "  did  I  hear  you  tell  that  man  we  should  be  ready  in  half 
an  hour?" 

"Yes,  sir." 

"  Are  you  blind  ?" 

He  asked  the  question  with  an  angry  stamp  of  his  foot.  Mrs.  Le- 
count looked  at  him  in  astonishment. 

"  Can't  you  see  the  brute  is  drunk  ?"  he  went  on,  more  and  more 
irritably.  "  Is  my  life  nothing  ?  Am  I  to  be  left  at  the  mercy  of  a 
drunken  coachman?  I  won't  trust  that  man  to  drive  me,  for  any 
consideration  under  heaven !  I'm  surprised  you  could  think  of  it, 
Lecount." 

"  The  man  has  been  drinking,  sir,"  said  Mrs.  Lecount.  "  It  is  easy 
to  see  and  to  smell  that.  But  he  is  evidently  used  to  drinking.  If 
he  is  sober  enough  to  walk  quite  straight — which  he  certainly  does 
— and  to  sign  his  name  in  an  excellent  handwriting — which  you 
may  see  for  yourself  on  the  Will — I  venture  to  think  he  is  sober 
enough  to  drive  us  to  Dumfries." 

"  Nothing  of  the  sort !  You're  a  foreigner,  Lecount ;  you  don't 
understand  these  people.  They  drink  whisky  from  morning  to 
Bight.  Whisky  is  the  strongest  spirit  that's  made  ;  whisky  is  noto- 
rious for  its  effect  on  the  brain.  I  tell  you,  I  won't  run  the  risk.  I 
never  was  driven,  and  I  never  will  be  driven,  by  any  body  but  a 
sober  man." 


NO    NAME.  481 

"  Must  I  go  back  to  Dumfries  by  myself,  sir  ?" 

"And  leave  me  here?     Leave  me  alone  in  this  house  after  what 

has  happened?     How  do  I  know  my  wife  may  not  come  back  to- 

i  night  ?     How  do  I  know  her  journey  is  not  a  blind  to  mislead  me  ? 

1  Have  you  no  feeling,  Lecount  ?     Can  you  leave  me  in  my  miserable 

■  situation —  ?"    He  sank  into  a  chair  and  burst  out  crying  over  his  own 

I  idea,  before  he  had  completed  the  expression  of  it  in  words.    "  Too 

bad  !"  he  said,  with  his  handkerchief  over  his  face — "  too  bad !" 

It  was  impossible  not  to  pity  him.  If  ever  mortal  was  pitiable,  he 
was  the  man.  He  had  broken  down  at  last,  under  the  conflict  of 
violent  emotions  which  had  been  roused  in  him  since  the  morning. 
I  The  effort  to  follow  Mrs.  Lecount  along  the  mazes  of  intricate  com- 
bination through  which  she  had  steadily  led  the  way,  had  upheld 
him  while  that  effort  lasted :  the  moment  it  was  at  an  end,  he 
dropped.  The  coachman  had  hastened  a  result — of  which  the 
coachman  was  far  from  being  the  cause. 

H  You  surprise  me — you  distress  me,  sir,"  said  Mrs.  Lecount.  "  I 
i  entreat  you  to  compose  yourself.  I  will  stay  here,  if  you  wish  it, 
with  pleasure — I  will  stay  here  to-night,  for  your  sake.  You  want 
rest  and  quiet  after  this  dreadful  day.  The  coachman  shall  be  in- 
stantly sent  away,  Mr.  Noel.  I  will  give  him  a  note  to  the  landlord 
of  the  hotel,  and  the  carriage  shall  come  back  for  us  to-morrow 
morning,  with  another  man  to  drive  it." 

The  prospect  which  those  words  presented  cheered  him.  He 
wiped  his  eyes,  and  kissed  Mrs.  Lecount's  hand. 

"Yes!"  he  said,  faintly ;  "send  the  coachman  away  —  and  you 
stop  here.  You  good  creature !  You  excellent  Lecount !  Send 
the  drunken  brute  away,  and  come  back  directly.  We  will  be 
comfortable  by  the  fire,  Lecount  —  and  have  a  nice  little  dinner — 
and  try  to  make  it  Uke  old  times."  His  weak  voice  faltered ;  he 
returned  to  the  fireside,  and  melted  into  tears  again  under  the  pa- 
thetic influence  of  his  own  idea. 

Mrs.  Lecount  left  him  for  a  minute  to  dismiss  the  coachman. 
When  she  returned  to  the  parlor,  she  found  him  with  his  hand  on 
the  bell. 

"  What  do  you  want,  sir  ?"  she  asked. 

"  I  want  to  tell  the  servants  to  get  your  room  ready,"  he  answered. 
"I  wish  to  show  you  every  attention,  Lecount." 

"  You  are  all  kindness,  Mr.  Noel ;  but  wait  one  moment.  It  may 
be  well  to  have  these  papers  put  out  of  the  way  before  the  servant 
comes  in  again.  If  you  will  place  the  Will  and  the  Sealed  Letter 
together  in  one  envelope — and  if  you  will  direct  it  to  the  admiral — - 
I  will  take  care  that  the  inclosure  so  addressed  is  safely  placed  in 
his  own  hands.  Will  you  come  to  the  table,  Mr.  Noel,  only  for  one 
minute  more  ?" 


482  NO    NAME. 

No !  He  was  obstinate ;  he  refused  to  move  from  the  fire ;  he  was 
sick  and  tired  of  writing ;  he  wished  he  had  never  been  born,  and 
he  loathed  the  sight  of  pen  and  ink.  All  Mrs.  Lecount's  patience 
and  all  Mrs.  Lecount's  persuasion  were  required  to  induce  him  to 
write  the  admiral's  address  for  the  second  time.  She  only  succeed- 
ed by  bringing  the  blank  envelope  to  him  upon  the  paper-case,  and 
putting  it  coaxingly  on  his  lap.  He  grumbled,  he  even  swore,  but 
he  directed  the  envelope  at  last,  in  these  terms :  "  To  Admiral  Bar- 
tram,  St.  Crux -in -the -Marsh.  Favored  by  Mrs.  Lecount."  With 
that  final  act  of  compliance,  his  docility  came  to  an  end.  He  refused, 
in  the  fiercest  terms,  to  seal  the  envelope. 

There  was  no  need  to  press  this  proceeding  on  him.  His  seal  lay 
ready  on  the  table ;  and  it  mattered  nothing  whether  he  used  it,  or 
whether  a  person  in  his  confidence  used  it  for  him.  Mrs.  Lecount 
sealed  the  envelope,  with  its  two  important  inclosures  placed  safely 
inside. 

She  opened  her  traveling-bag  for  the  last  time,  and  pausing  for  a 
moment  before  she  put  the  sealed  packet  away,  looked  at  it  with  a 
triumph  too  deep  for  words.  She  smiled  as  she  dropped  it  into  the 
bag.  Not  the  shadow  of  a  suspicion  that  the  Will  might  contain 
superfluous  phrases  and  expressions  which  no  practical  lawyer 
would  have  used ;  not  the  vestige  of  a  doubt  whether  the  Letter 
was  quite  as  complete  a  document  as  a  practical  lawyer  might  have 
made  it,  troubled  her  mind.  In  blind  reliance — born  of  her  hatred 
for  Magdalen  and  her  hunger  for  revenge — in  blind  rehance  on  her 
own  abilities,  and  on  her  friend's  law,  she  trusted  the  future  implic- 
itly to  the  promise  of  the  morning's  work. 

As  she  locked  her  traveling-bag,  Noel  Vanstone  rang  the  bell. 
On  this  occasion,  the  summons  was  answered  by  Louisa. 

"Get  the  spare  room  ready,"  said  her  master;  "this  lady  will 
sleep  here  to-night.  And  air  my  warm  things ;  this  lady  and  I  are 
going  away  to-morrow  morning." 

The  civil  and  submissive  Louisa  received  her  orders  in  sullen 
silence — darted  an  angry  look  at  her  master's  impenetrable  guest — 
and  left  the  room.  The  servants  were  evidently  all  attached  to 
their  mistress's  interests,  and  were  all  of  one  opinion  on  the  subject 
of  Mrs.  Lecount. 

"  That's  done  I"  said  Noel  Vanstone,  with  a  sigh  of  infinite  relief. 
"  Come  and  sit  down,  Lecount.  Let's  be  comfortable — let's  gossip 
over  the  fire." 

Mrs.  Lecount  accepted  the  invitation,  and  drew  an  easy-chair  to 
his  side.  He  took  her  hand  with  a  confidential  tenderness,  and 
held  it  in  hi^  while  the  talk  went  on.  A  stranger,  looking  iu 
through  the  window,  would  have  taken  them  for  mother  and  son, 
and  would  have  thought  to  himself,  "  What  a  happy  home  !" 


NO    NAME.  483 

The  gossip,  led  by  Noel  Vanstone,  consisted  as  usual  of  an  endless 
string  of  questions,  and  was  devoted  entirely  to  the  subject  of  him- 
self and  his  future  prospects.  Where  would  Lecount  take  him  to 
when  they  went  away  the  next  morning  ?  Why  to  London  ?  Why 
should  he  be  left  in  London,  while  Lecount  went  on  to  St.  Crux  to 
give  the  admiral  the  Letter  and  the  Will  ?  Because  his  wife  might 
follow  him,  if  he  went  to  the  admiral's  ?  Well,  there  was  something 
in  that.  And  because  he  ought  to  be  safely  concealed  from  her, 
in  some  comfortable  lodging,  near  Mr.  Loscombe  ?  Why  near  Mr. 
Loscombe  ?  Ah  yes,  to  be  sure — to  know  what  the  law  would  do 
to  help  him.  Would  the  law  set  him  free  from  the  Wretch  who 
had  deceived  him  ?  How  tiresome  of  Lecount  not  to  know ! 
Would  the  law  say  he  had  gone  and  married  himself  a  second  time, 
because  he  had  been  living  with  the  Wretch,  like  husband  and 
wife,  in  Scotland  ?  Any  thing  that  publicly  assumed  to  be  a  mar- 
riage was  a  marriage  (he  had  heard)  in  Scotland.  How  excessively 
tiresome  of  Lecount  to  sit  there,  and  say  she  knew  nothing  about 
it !  Was  he  to  stay  long  in  London  by  himself,  with  nobody  but 
Mr.  Loscombe  to  speak  to  ?  Would  Lecount  come  back  to  him, 
as  soon  as  she  had  put  those  important  papers  in  the  admiral's 
own  hands  ?  Would  Lecount  consider  herself  still  in  his  serv- 
ice ?  The  good  Lecount !  the  excellent  Lecount !  And  after  all  the 
law-business  was  over  —  what  then  ?  Why  not  leave  this  horrid 
England,  and  go  abroad  again  ?  Why  not  go  to  France,  to  some 
cheap  place  near  Paris  ?  Say  Versailles  ?  say  St.  Germain  ?  In  a 
nice  little  French  house  —  cheap?  With  a  nice  French  lanne  to 
cook — who  wouldn't  waste  his  substance  in  the  grease-pot  ?  With 
a  nice  little  garden — where  he  could  work  himself,  and  get  health, 
and  save  the  expense  of  keeping  a  gardener  ?  It  wasn't  a  bad  idea. 
And  it  seemed  to  promise  well  for  the  future — didn't  it,  Lecount  ? 

So  he  ran  on — the  poor,  weak  creature  !  the  abject,  miserable  lit- 
tle man ! 

As  the  darkness  gathered,  at  the  close  of  the  short  November  day, 
he  began  to  grow  drowsy — his  ceaseless  questions  came  to  an  end 
at  last — he  fell  asleep.  The  wind  outside  sang  its  mournful  winter- 
song  ;  the  tramp  of  passing  footsteps,  the  roll  of  passing  wheels  on 
the  road,  ceased  in  dreary  silence.  He  slept  on  quietly.  The  fire- 
light rose  and  fell  on  his  wizen  little  face  and  his  nerveless,  droop- 
ing hands.  Mrs.  Lecount  had  not  pitied  him  yet.  She  began  to 
pity  him  now.  Her  point  was  gained ;  her  interest  in  his  will  was 
secured ;  he  had  put  his  future  life,  of  his  own  accord,  under  her  fos- 
tering care — the  fire  wTas  comfortable ;  the  circumstances  were  favor- 
able to  the  growth  of  Christian  feeling.  "  Poor  wretch  !"  said  Mrs. 
Lecount,  looking  at  him  with  a  grave  compassion — "  poor  wretch !" 

The  dinner-hour  roused  him.     He  was  cheerful  at  dinner ;  he  re- 


484  NO   NAME. 

verted  to  the  idea  of  the  cheap  little  house  in  France;  he  smirked 
and  simpered  ;  and  talked  French  to  Mrs.  Lecount,  while  the  house 
maid  and  Louisa  waited,  turn  and  turn  about,  under  protest.  When 
dinner  was  over,  he  returned  to  his  comfortable  chair  before  the  fire, 
and  Mrs.  Lecount  followed  him.  He  resumed  the  conversation — 
which  meant,  in  his  case,  repeating  his  questions.  But  he  was  not 
so  quick  and  ready  with  them  as  he  had  been  earlier  in  the  day. 
They  began  to  flag — they  continued,  at  longer  and  longer  intervals 
— they  ceased  altogether.     Toward  nine  o'clock  he  fell  asleep  again. 

It  was  not  a  quiet  sleep  this  time.  He  muttered,  and  ground  his 
teeth,  and  rolled  his  head  from  side  to  side  of  the  chair.  Mrs.  Le- 
count purposely  made  noise  enough  to  rouse  him.  He  woke,  with  a 
vacant  eye  and  a  flushed  cheek.  He  walked  about  the  room  rest- 
lessly, with  a  new  idea  in  his  mind — the  idea  of  writing  a  terrible 
letter ;  a  letter  of  eternal  farewell  to  his  wife.  How  was  it  to  be 
written  ?  In  what  language  should  he  express  his  feelings  ?  The 
powers  of  Shakspeare  himself  would  be  unequal  to  the  emergency  ! 
He  had  been  the  victim  of  an  outrage  entirely  without  parallel.  A 
wretch  had  crept  into  his  bosom !  A  viper  had  hidden  herself  at 
his  fireside !  Where  could  words  be  found  to  brand  her  with  the 
infamy  she  deserved  ?  He  stopped,  with  a  suffocating  sense  in  him 
of  his  own  impotent  rage — he  stopped,  and  shook  his  fist  tremulous- 
ly in  the  empty  air. 

Mrs.  Lecount  interfered  with  an  energy  and  a  resolution  inspired 
by  serious  alarm.  After  the  heavy  strain  that  had  been  laid  on  his 
weakness  already,  such  an  outbreak  of  passionate  agitation  as  was 
now  bursting  from  him  might  be  the  destruction  of  his  rest  that 
night,  and  of  his  strength  to  travel  the  next  day.  With  infinite  dif- 
ficulty, with  endless  promises  to  return  to  the  subject,  and  to  advise 
him  about  it  in  the  morning,  she  prevailed  on  him,  at  last,  to  go  up 
stairs  and  compose  himself  for  the  night.  She  gave  him  her  arm  to 
assist  him.  On  the  way  up  stairs,  his  attention,  to  her  great  relief, 
became  suddenly  absorbed  by  a  new  fancy.  He  remembered  a  cer- 
tain warm  and  comfortable  mixture  of  wine,  egg,  sugar,  and  spices, 
which  she  had  often  been  accustomed  to  make  for  him  in  former 
times,  and  which  he  thought  he  should  relish  exceedingly  before  he 
went  to  bed.  Mrs.  Lecount  helped  him  on  with  his  dressing-gown 
— then  went  down  stairs  again,  to  make  his  warm  drink  for  him  at 
the  parlor  fire. 

She  rang  the  bell,  and  ordered  the  necessary  ingredients  for  the 
mixture,  in  Nool  Vanstone's  name.  The  servants,  with  the  small  in- 
genious malice  of  their  race,  brought  up  the  materials  one  by  one, 
and  kept  her  waiting  for  each  of  them  as  long  as  possible.  She  had 
got  the  saucepan,  and  the  spoon,  and  the  tumbler,  and  the  nutmeg- 
grater,  and  the  wine — but  not  the  egg,  the  sugar,  or  the  spices-— 


HE    WAS    DEAD  ! 


NO   NAME.  487 

when  she  heard  him  above,  walking  backward  and  forward  noisily 
in  his  room;  exciting  himself  on  the  old  subject  again,  beyond  all 
doubt. 

She  went  up  stairs  once  more ;  but  he  was  too  quick  for  her — he 
heard  her  outside  the  door;  and  when  she  opened  it,  she  found  him 
in  his  chair,  with  his  back  cunningly  turned  toward  her.  Knowing 
him  too  well  to  attempt  any  remonstrance,  she  merely  announced  the 
speedy  arrival  of  the  warm  drink,  and  turned  to  leave  the  room.  On 
her  way  out,  she  noticed  a  table  in  a  corner,  with  an  inkstand  and 
a  paper-case  on  it,  and  tried,  without  attracting  his  attention,  to  take 
the  writing  materials  away.  He  was  too  quick  for  her  again.  He 
asked,  angrily,  if  she  doubted  his  promise.  She  put  the  writing  ma- 
terials back  on  the  table,  for  fear  of  offending  him,  and  left  the  room. 

In  half  an  hour  more  the  mixture  was  ready.  She  carried  it  up  to 
him,  foaming  and  fragrant,  in  a  large  tumbler.  "  He  will  sleep  after 
this,"  she  thought  to  herself,  as  she  opened  the  door ;  "  I  have  made 
it  stronger  than  usual  on  purpose.'1 

He  had  changed  his  place.  He  was  sitting  at  the  table  in  the 
corner  —  still  with  his  back  to  her,  writing.  This  time  his  quick 
ears  had  not  served  him  ;  this  time  she  caught  him  in  the  fact. 

"  Oh,  Mr.  Noel !  Mr.  Noel !"  she  said,  reproachfully,  "  what  is  your 
promise  worth  ?" 

He  made  no  answer.  He  was  sitting  with  his  left  elbow  on  the 
table,  and  with  his  head  resting  on  his  left  hand.  His  right  hand 
lay  back  on  the  paper,  with  the  pen  lying  loose  in  it.  "  Your  drink, 
Mr.  Noel,"  she  said,  in  a  kinder  tone,  feeling  unwilling  to  offend  him. 
He  took  no  notice  of  her. 

She  went  to  the  table  to  rouse  him.     Was  he  deep  in  thought  ? 

He  was  dead ! 

THE   END   OP   THE  FIFTH   SCENE. 


BETWEEN  THE  SCENES. 

PROGRESS  OF  THE  STORY  THROUGH  THE  POST. 


I. 

From  Mrs.  Noel  Vanstone  to  Mr.  Loscombe. 

"  Park  Terrace,  St.  John's  Wood,  November  6th. 
"  Dear  Sir, — I  came  to  London  yesterday,  for  the  purpose  of  see- 
ing a  relative,  leaving  Mr.  Vanstone  at  Baliol  Cottage,  and  propos- 
ing to  return  to  him  in  the  course  of  the  week.     I  reached  London 


488  NO   NAME. 

late  last  night,  and  drove  to  these  lodgings,  having  written  to  se- 
cure accommodation  beforehand. 

"  This  morning's  post  has  brought  me  a  letter  from  my  own  maid, 
whom  I  left  at  Baliol  Cottage,  with  instructions  to  write  to  me  if 
any  thing  extraordinary  took  place  in  my  absence.  You  will  find 
the  girl's  letter  inclosed  in  this.  I  have  had  some  experience  of 
her ;  and  I  believe  she  is  to  be  strictly  depended  on  to  tell  the  truth. 

"  I  purposely  abstain  from  troubling  you  by  any  useless  allusions 
to  myself.  When  you  have  read  my  maid's  letter,  you  will  under- 
stand the  shock  which  the  news  contained  in  it  has  caused  me.  I 
can  only  repeat  that  I  place  implicit  belief  in  her  statement.  I  am 
firmly  persuaded  that  my  husband's  former  housekeeper  has  found 
him  out,  has  practiced  on  his  weakness  in  my  absence,  and  has  pre- 
vailed on  him  to  make  another  Will.  From  what  I  know  of  this 
woman,  I  feel  no  doubt  that  she  has  used  her  influence  over  Mr.  Van- 
stone  to  deprive  me,  if  possible,  of  all  future  interests  in  my  hus- 
band's fortune. 

"  Under  such  circumstances  as  these,  it  is  in  the  last  degree  im- 
portant— for  more  reasons  than  I  need  mention  here — that  I  should 
see  Mr.  Vanstone,  and  come  to  an  explanation  with  him,  at  the  ear- 
liest possible  opportunity.  You  will  find  that  my  maid  thoughtful- 
ly kept  her  letter  open  until  the  last  moment  before  post-time — with- 
out, however,  having  any  later  news  to  give  me  than  that  Mrs.  Le- 
count  was  to  sleep  at  the  cottage  last  night,  and  that  she  and  Mr. 
Vanstone  were  to  leave  together  this  morning.  But  for  that  last 
piece  of  intelligence,  I  should  have  been  on  my  way  back  to  Scot- 
land before  now.  As  it  is,  I  can  not  decide  for  myself  what  I  ought 
to  do  next.  My  going  back  to  Dumfries,  after  Mr.  Vanstone  has  left 
it,  seems  like  taking  a  journey  for  nothing — and  my  staying  in  Lon- 
don appears  to  be  almost  equally  useless. 

"  Will  you  kindly  advise  me  in  this  difficulty  ?  I  will  come  to 
you  at  Lincoln's  Inn  at  any  time  this  afternoon  or  to-morrow  which 
you  may  appoint.  My  next  few  hours  are  engaged.  As  soon  as 
this  letter  is  dispatched,  I  am  going  to  Eensington,  with  the  object 
of  ascertaining  whether  certain  doubts  I  feel  about  the  means  by 
which  Mrs.  Lecount  may  have  accomplished  her  discovery  are  well 
founded  Or  not.  If  you  will  let  me  have  your  answer  by  return  of 
post,  I  will  not  fail  to  get  back  to  St.  John's  Wood  in  time  to  re 
ceive  it.     Believe  me,  dear  sir,  yours  sincerely, 

"Magdalen  Vanstone." 

n. 

From  Mr.  Loscombe  to  Mrs.  Noel  Vanstone. 

"Lincoln's  Inn,  November  6th. 
"Dear  Madam, — Your  letter  and  its  inclosure  have  caused  me 


NO   NAMB.  489 

great  concern  and  surprise.  Pressure  of  business  allows  me  no  hope 
of  being  able  to  see  you  either  to-day  or  to-morrow  morning.  But 
if  three  o'clock  to-morrow  afternoon  will  suit  you,  at  that  hour  you 
will  find  me  at  your  service. 

"I  can  not  pretend  to  offer  a  positive  opinion  until  I  know  more 
of  the  particulars  connected  with  this  extraordinary  business  than 
I  find  communicated  either  in  your  letter  or  in  your  maid's.  But 
with  this  reserve,  I  venture  to  suggest  that  your  remaining  in  Lon- 
don until  to-morrow  may  possibly  lead  to  other  results  besides  your 
consultation  at  my  chambers.  There  is  at  least  a  chance  that  you 
or  I  may  hear  something  further  in  this  strange  matter  by  the  morn- 
ing's post.     I  remain,  dear  madam,  faithfully  yours, 

"  JOITN   LOSCOMBE." 

III. 

From  Mrs.  Noel  Vanstone  to  Miss  Garth. 

"  November  5th,  two  o'clock. 

"  I  have  just  returned  from  Westmoreland  House — after  purpose- 
ly leaving  it  in  secret,  and  purposely  avoiding  you  untler  your  own 
roof.  You  shall  know  why  I  came,  and  why  I  went  away.  It  is 
due  to  my  remembrance  of  old  times  not  to  treat  you  like  a  stran- 
ger, although  I  can  never  again  treat  you  like  a  friend. 

"I  set  forth  on  the  third  from  the  North  to  London.  My  only 
object  in  taking  this  long  journey  was  to  see  Norah.  I  had  been 
suffering  for  many  weary  weeks  past  such  remorse  as  only  misera- 
ble women  like  me  can  feel.  Perhaps  the  suffering  weakened  me; 
perhaps  it  roused  some  old  forgotten  tenderness — God  knows  ! — I 
can't  explain  it ;  I  can  only  tell  you  that  I  began  to  think  of  Norah 
by  day,  and  to  dream  of  Norah  by  night,  till  I  was  almost  heart- 
broken. I  have  no  better  reason  than  this  to  give  for  running  all 
the  risks  which  I  ran,  and  coming  to  London  to  see  her.  I  don't 
wish  to  claim  more  for  myself  than  I  deserve ;  I  don't  wish  to  tell 
you  I  was  the  reformed  and  repenting  creature  whom  you  might 
have  approved.  I  had  only  one  feeling  in  me  that  I  know  of.  I 
wanted  to  put  my  arms  round  Norah's  neck,  and  cry  my  heart  out 
on  Norah's  bosom.  Childish  enough,  I  dare  say.  Something  might 
have  come  of  it ;  nothing  might  have  come  of  it — who  knows  ? 

"  I  had  no  means  of  finding  Norah  without  your  assistance.  How- 
ever you  might  disapprove  of  what  I  had  done,  I  thought  you  would 
not  refuse  to  help  me  to  find  my  sister  When  I  lay  down  last  night 
in  my  strange  bed,  I  said  to  myself, '  I  will  ask  Miss  Garth,  for  my 
father's  sake  and  my  mother's  sake,  to  tell  me.'  You  don't  know 
what  a  comfort  I  felt  in  that  thought.  How  should  you?  What 
do  good  women  like  you  know  of  miserable  sinners  like  me  ?  AU 
you  know  is  that  you  pray  for  us  at  church. 


490  NO   NAME. 

"Well,  I  fell  asleep  happily  that  night— for  the  first  time  since 
my  marriage.  When  the  morning  came,  I  paid  the  penalty  of  dar- 
ing to  be  happy  only  for  one  night.  When  the  morning  came,  a 
letter  came  with  it,  which  told  me  that  my  bitterest  enemy  on  earth 
(you  have  meddled  sufficiently  with  my  affairs  to  know  what  enemy 
I  mean)  had  revenged  herself  on  me  in  my  absence.  In  following 
the  impulse  which  led  me  to  my  sister,  I  had  gone  to  my  ruin. 

"  The  mischief  was  beyond  all  present  remedy,  when  I  received 
the  news  of  it.  Whatever  had  happened,  whatever  might  happen, 
I  made  up  my  mind  to  persist  in  my  resolution  of  seeing  Norah  be- 
fore I  did  any  thing  else.  I  suspected  you  of  being  concerned  in 
the  disaster  which  had  overtaken  me — because  I  felt  positively  cer- 
tain at  Aldborough  that  you  and  Mrs.  Lecount  had  written  to  each 
other.  But  I  never  suspected  Norah.  If  I  lay  on  my  death-bed  at 
this  moment,  I  could  say  with  a  safe  conscience  I  never  suspected 
Norah. 

"  So  I  went  this  morning  to  Westmoreland  House  to  ask  you  for 
my  sister's  address,  and  to  acknowledge  plainly  that  I  suspected 
you  of  being  again  in  correspondence  with  Mrs.  Lecount. 

"  When  I  inquired  for  you  at  the  door,  they  told  me  you  had  gone 
out,  but  that  you  were  expected  back  before  long.  They  asked  me 
if  I  would  see  your  sister,  who  was  then  in  the  school-room.  I  de- 
sired that  your  sister  should  on  no  account  be  disturbed :  my  busi- 
ness was  not  with  her,  but  with  you.  I  begged  to  be  allowed  to 
wait  in  a  room  by  myself  until  you  returned. 

"  They  showed  me  into  the  double  room  on  the  ground-floor,  di- 
vided by  curtains — as  it  was  when  I  last  remember  it.  There  was 
a  fire  in  the  outer  division  of  the  room,  but  none  in  the  inner ;  and 
for  that  reason,  I  suppose,  the  curtains  were  drawn.  The  servant 
was  very  civil  and  attentive  to  me.  I  have  learned  to  be  thankful 
for  civility  and  attention,  and  I  spoke  to  her  as  cheerfully  as  I  could. 
I  said  to  her, '  I  shall  see  Miss  Garth  here,  as  she  comes  up  to  the 
door,  and  I  can  beckon  her  in  through  the  long  window.'  The 
servant  said  I  could  do  so,  if  you  came  that  way,  but  that  you  let 
yourself  in  sometimes  with  your  own  key  by  the  back-garden  gate ; 
and  if  you  did  this,  she  would  take  care  to  let  you  know  of  my  vis- 
it. I  mention  these  trifles,  to  show  you  that  there  was  no  premedi- 
tated deceit  in  my  mind  when  I  came  to  the  house. 

"  I  waited  a  weary  time,  and  you  never  came :  I  don't  know 
whether  my  impatience  made  me  think  so,  or  whether  the  large 
fire  burning  made  the  room  really  as  hot  as  I  felt  it  to  be — I  only 
know  that,  after  a  while,  I  passed  through  the  curtains  into  the  innei 
room,  to  try  the  cooler  atmosphere. 

"  I  walked  to  the  long  window  which  leads  into  the  back  garden, 
to  look  out,  and  almost  at  the  same  time  I  heard  the  door  opened— 


NO    NAME.  491 

the  door  of  the  room  I  had  just  left — and  your  voice  and  the  voice 
of  some  other  woman,  a  stranger  to  me,  talking.  The  stranger  was 
one  of  the  parlor-boarders,  I  dare  say.  I  gathered  from  the  first 
words  you  exchanged  together,  that  you  had  met  in  the  passage — 
she  on  her  way  down  stairs,  and  you  on  your  way  in  from  the  back 
garden.  Her  next  question  and  your  next  answer  informed  me 
that  this  person  was  a  friend  of  my  sister's,  who  felt  a  strong  inter- 
est in  her,  and  who  knew  that  you  had  just  returned  from  a  visit  to 
Norah.  So  far,  I  only  hesitated  to  show  myself,  because  I  shrank, 
in  my  painful  situation,  from  facing  a  stranger.  But  when  I  heard 
my  own  name  immediately  afterward  on  your  lips  and  on  hers, 
then  I  purposely  came  nearer  to  the  curtain  between  us,  and  pur- 
posely listened. 

"  A  mean  action,  you  will  say  ?  Call  it  mean,  if  you  like.  What 
better  can  you  expect  from  such  a  woman  as  I  am  ? 

"  You  were  always  famous  for  your  memory.  There  is  no  neces- 
sity for  my  repeating  the  words  you  spoke  to  your  friend,  and  the 
words  your  friend  spoke  to  you,  hardly  an  hour  since.  When  you 
read  these  lines,  you  will  know,  as  well  as  I  know,  what  those  words 
told  me.  I  ask  for  no  particulars ;  I  will  take  all  your  reasons 
and  all  your  excuses  for  granted.  It  is  enough  for  me  to  know  that 
you  and  Mr.  Pendril  have  been  searching  for  me  again,  and  that 
Norah  is  in  the  conspiracy  this  time,  to  reclaim  me  in  spite  of  my- 
self. It  is  enough  for  me  to  know  that  my  letter  to  my  sister  has 
been  turned  into  a  trap  to  catch  me,  and  that  Mrs.  Lecount's  re- 
venge has  accomplished  its  object  by  means  of  information  received 
from  Norah's  lips. 

"  Shall  I  tell  you  what  I  suffered  when  I  heard  these  things  ? 
No ;  it  would  only  be  a  waste  of  time  to  tell  you.  Whatever  I  suf- 
fer, I  deserve  it — don't  I  ? 

"  I  waited  in  that  inner  room— knowing  my  own  violent  temper, 
and  not  trusting  myself  to  see  you,  after  what  I  had  heard — I  wait- 
ed in  that  inner  room,  trembling  lest  the  servant  should  tell  you  of 
my  visit  before  I  could  find  an  opportunity  of  leaving  the  house. 
No  such  misfortune  happened.  The  servant,  no  doubt,  heard  the 
voices  up  stairs,  and  supposed  that  we  had  met  each  other  in  the 
passage.  I  don't  know  how  long  or  how  short  a  time  it  was  before 
you  left  the  room  to  go  and  take  off  your  bonnet — you  went,  and 
your  friend  went  with  you.  I  raised  the  long  window  softly,  and 
6tepped  into  the  back  garden.  The  way  by  which  you  returned  to 
the  house  was  the  way  by  which  I  left  it.  No  blame  attaches  to 
the  servant.  As  usual,  where  I  am  concerned,  nobody  is  to  blame 
but  me. 

"  Time  enough  has  passed  now  to  quiet  my  mind  a  little.  You 
know  how  strong  I  am  ?    You  remember  how  I  used  to  fight  against 


492  NO   NAME. 

all  my  illnesses  when  I  was  a  child  ?  Now  I  am  a  woman,  I  fight 
against  my  miseries  in  the  same  way.  Don't  pity  me,  Miss  Garth ! 
Don't  pity  me ! 

"  I  have  no  harsh  feeling  against  Norah.  The  hope  I  had  of  see- 
ing her  is  a  hope  taken  from  me ;  the  consolation  I  had  in  writing 
to  her  is  a  consolation  denied  me  for  the  future.  I  am  cut  to  the 
heart ;  but  I  have  no  angry  feeling  toward  my  sister.  She  means 
Well,  poor  soul — I  dare  say  she  means  well.  It  would  distress  her, 
if  she  knew  what  has  happened.  Don't  tell  her.  Conceal  my  visit, 
and  burn  my  letter. 

"  A  last  word  to  yourself  and  I  have  done : 

"  If  I  rightly  understand  my  present  situation,  your  spies  are  still 
searching  for  me  to  just  as  little  purpose  as  they  searched  at  York. 
Dismiss  them — you  are  wasting  your  money  to  no  purpose.  If  you 
discovered  me  to-morrow,  what  could  you  do  ?  My  position  has 
altered.  I  am  no  longer  the  poor  outcast  girl,  the  vagabond  public 
performer,  whom  you  once  hunted  after.  I  have  done  what  I  told 
you  I  would  do — I  have  made  the  general  sense  of  propriety  my  ac- 
complice this  time.  Do  you  know  who  I  am  ?  I  am  a  respectable 
married  woman,  accountable  for  my  actions  to  nobody  under  heav- 
en but  my  husband.  I  have  got  a  place  in  the  world,  and  a  name 
in  the  world,  at  last.  Even  the  law,  which  is  the  friend  of  all  you 
respectable  people,  has  recognized  my  existence,  and  has  become 
my  friend  too  !  The  Archbishop  of  Canterbury  gave  ine  his  license 
to  be  married,  and  the  vicar  of  Aldborough  2>erformed  the  service. 
If  I  found  your  spies  following  me  in  the  street,  and  if  I  chose  to 
claim  protection  from  them,  the  law  would  acknowledge  my  claim. 
You  forget  what  wonders  my  wickedness  has  done  for  me.  It  has 
made  Nobody's  Child  Somebody's  Wife. 

"  If  you  will  give  these  considerations  their  due  weight ;  if  you 
will  exert  your  excellent  common  sense,  I  have  no  fear  of  being 
obliged  to  appeal  to  my  newly-found  friend  and  protector  —  the 
law.  You  will  feel,  by  this  time,  that  you  have  meddled  with  me 
at  last  to  some  puqiose.  I  am  estranged  from  Norah — I  am  discov- 
ered by  my  husband — I  am  defeated  by  Mrs.  Lecount.  You  have 
driven  me  to  the  last  extremity ;  you  have  strengthened  me  to  fight 
the  battle  of  my  life  with  the  resolution  which  only  a  lost  and 
friendless  woman  can  feel.  Badly  as  your  schemes  have  prospered, 
they  have  not  proved  totally  useless  after  all ! 

"  I  have  no  more  to  say.  If  you  ever  speak  about  me  to  Norah, 
tell  her  that  a  day  may  come  when  she  will  <*ee  me  again — the  day 
when  we  two  sisters  have  recovered  our  natural  rights ;  the  day 
when  I  put  Norah's  fortune  into  Norah's  hand. 

"  Those  are  my  last  words.  Remember  them  the  next  time  you  feel 
tempted  to  meddle  with  me  again.  MagdJxen  Vanstone." 


NO    NAME.  493 

IV. 

From  Mr.  Loscombe  to  Mrs.  Noel  Vanstone. 

"Lincoln's  Inu,  November  6th. 

"  Dear  Madam, — This  morning's  post  has  doubtless  brought  you 
the  same  shocking  news  which  it  has  brought  to  me.  You  must 
know  by  this  time  that  a  terrible  affliction  has  befallen  you — the 
affliction  of  your  husband's  sudden  death. 

"  I  am  on  the  point  of  starting  for  the  North,  to  make  all  needful 
inquiries,  and  to  perform  whatever  duties  I  may  with  propriety  un- 
dertake, as  solicitor  to  the  deceased  gentleman.  Let  me  earnestly 
recommend  you  not  to  follow  me  to  Baliol  Cottage,  until  I  have 
had  time  to  write  to  you  first,  and  to  give  you  such  advice  as  I  can 
not,  through  ignorance  of  all  the  circumstances,  pretend  to  offer 
now.  You  may  rely  on  my  writing,  after  my  arrival  in  Scotland, 
by  the  first  post.     I  remain,  dear  madam,  faithfully  yours, 

"John  Loscombe." 

V. 

From  Mr.  Pendril  to  Miss  Garth. 

"  Serle  Street,  November  6th. 

"  Dear  Miss  Garth, — I  return  you  Mrs.  Noel  Vanstone's  letter. 
I  can  understand  your  mortification  at  the  tone  in  which  it  is  writ- 
ten, and  your  distress  at  the  manner  in  which  this  unhappy  woman 
has  interpreted  the  conversation  that  she  overheard  at  your  house. 
I  can  not  honestly  add  that  I  lament  what  has  happened.  My  opin- 
ion has  never  altered  since  the  Combe-Raven  time.  I  believe  Mrs. 
Noel  Vanstone  to  be  one  of  the  most  reckless,  desperate,  and  per- 
verted women  living ;  and  any  circumstances  that  estrange  her 
from  her  sister  are  circumstances  which  I  welcome,  for  her  sister's 
sake. 

"  There  can  not  be  a  moment's  doubt  on  the  course  you  ought  to 
follow  in  this  matter.  Even  Mrs.  Noel  Vanstone  herself  acknowl- 
edges the  propriety  of  sparing  her  sister  additional  and  unneces- 
sary distress.  By  all  means,  keep  Miss  Vanstone  in  ignorance  of 
the  visit  to  Kensington,  and  of  the  letter  which  has  followed  it. '  It 
would  be  not  only  unwise,  but  absolutely  cruel,  to  enlighten  her. 
If  we  had  any  remedy  to  apply,  or  even  any  hope  to  offer,  we  might 
feel  some  hesitation  in  keeping  our  secret.  But  there  is  no  remedy, 
and  no  hope.  Mrs.  Noel  Vanstone  is  perfectly  justified  in  the  view 
she  takes  of  her  own  position.  Neither  you  nor  I  can  assert  the 
smallest  right  to  control  her. 

"  I  have  already  taken  the  necessary  measures  for  putting  an  end 
to  our  useless  inquiries.  In  a  few  days  I  will  write  to  Miss  Van- 
stone, and  will  do  my  best  to  tranquilize  her  mind  on  the  subject 


494  NO    NAME. 

of  her  sister.  If  I  can  find  no  sufficient  excuse  to  satisfy  her,  it  will 
be  better  she  should  think  we  have  discovered  nothing  than  that 
she  should  know  the  truth.     Believe  me,  most  truly  yours, 

"William  Pendril." 

VI. 

From  Mr.  Loscombe  to  Mrs.  Noel  Vanstone. 
"Private.  "Lincoln's  Inn,  Noveinber  15th. 

"  Dear  Madam, — In  compliance  with  your  request,  I  now  pro- 
ceed to  communicate  to  you  in  writing  what  (but  for  the  calamity 
which  has  so  recently  befallen  you)  I  should  have  preferred  commu- 
nicating by  word  of  mouth.  Be  pleased  to  consider  this  letter  as 
strictly  confidential  between  yourself  and  me. 

"  I  inclose,  as  you  desire,  a  co])y  of  the  Will  executed  by  your 
late  husband  on  the  third  of  this  month.  There  can  be  no  question 
of  the  genuineness  of  the  original  document.  I  protested,  as  a  mat- 
ter of  form,  against  Admiral  Bartram's  solicitor  assuming  a  position 
of  authority  at  Baliol  Cottage.  But  he  took  the  position,  neverthe- 
less ;  acting  as  legal  representative  of  the  sole  Executor  under  the 
second  Will.  I  am  bound  to  say  I  should  have  done  the  same 
myself  in  his  place. 

"  The  serious  question  follows,  What  can  we  do  for  the  best  in 
your  interests  ?  The  Will  executed  under  my  professional  superin- 
tendence, on  the  thirtieth  of  September  last,  is  at  present  superseded 
and  revoked  by  the  second  and  later  Will,  executed  on  the  third  of 
November.     Can  we  dispute  this  document  ? 

"  I  doubt  the  possibility  of  disputing  the  new  Will  on  the  face  of 
it.  It  is  no  doubt  irregularly  expressed ;  but  it  is  dated,  signed,  and 
witnessed  as  the  law  directs ;  and  the  perfectly  simple  and  straight- 
forward provisions  that  it  contains  are  in  no  respect,  that  I  can  see, 
technically  open  to  attack. 

"  This  being  the  case,  can  we  dispute  the  Will  on  the  ground  that 
it  has  been  executed  when  the  Testator  was  not  in  a  fit  state  to  dis 
pose  of  his  own  property  ?  or  when  the  Testator  was  subjected  to  un- 
due and  improper  influence  ? 

"  In  the  first  of  these  cases,  the  medical  evidence  would  put  an 
obstacle  in  our  way.  We  can  not  assert  that  previous  illness  had 
weakened  the  Testator's  mind.  It  is  clear  that  he  died  suddenly, 
as  the  doctors  had  all  along  declared  he  would  die,  of  disease  of 
the  heart.  He  was  out  walking  in  his  garden,  as  usual,  on  the  day 
of  his  death ;  he  ate  a  hearty  dinner ;  none  of  the  persons  in  hie 
service  noticed  any  change  in  him ;  he  was  a  little  more  irritable 
with  them  than  usual,  but  that  was  all.  It  is  impossible  to  attack 
the  state  of  his  faculties :  there  is  no  case  to  go  into  court  with,  so 
far. 


NO   NAME.  495 

"  Can  we  declare  that  he  acted  under  undue  influence ;  or,  in  plain- 
er terms,  under  the  influence  of  Mrs.  Lecount  ? 

"  There  are  serious  difficulties,  again,  in  the  way  of  taking  this 
course.  We  can  not  assert,  for  example,  that  Mrs.  Lecount  has  as- 
sumed a  place  in  the  will  which  she  has  no  fair  claim  to  occupy. 
She  has  cunningly  limited  her  own  legacy,  not  only  to  what  is  fairly 
her  due,  but  to  what  the  late  Mr.  Michael  Vanstone  himself  had  the 
intention  of  leaving  her.  If  I  were  examined  on  the  subject,  I 
should  be  compelled  to  acknowledge  that  I  had  heard  him  express 
this  intention  myself.  It  is  only  the  truth  to  say  that  I  have  heard 
him  express  it  more  than  once.  There  is  no  point  of  attack  in  Mrs. 
Lecount's  legacy,  and  there  is  no  point  of  attack  in  your  late  hus- 
band's choice  of  an  executor.  He  has  made  the  wise  choice,  and  the 
natural  choice,  of  the  oldest  and  trustiest  friend  he  had  in  the  world. 

"  One  more  consideration  remains — the  most  important  which  I 
have  yet  approached,  and  therefore  the  consideration  which  I  have 
reserved  to  the  last.  On  the  thirtieth  of  September,  the  Testator 
executes  a  will,  leaving  his  widow  sole  executrix,  with  a  legacy  of 
eighty  thousand  pounds.  On  the  third  of  November  following,  he 
expressly  revokes  this  will,  and  leaves  another  in  its  stead,  in  which 
his  widow  is  never  once  mentioned,  and  in  which  the  whole  residue 
of  his  estate,  after  payment  of  one  comparatively  trifling  legacy,  is 
left  to  a  friend. 

"It  rests  entirely  with  you  to  say  whether  any  valid  reason  can 
or  can  not  be  produced  to  explain  such  an  extraordinary  proceed- 
ing as  this.  If  no  reason  can  be  assigned — and  I  know  of  none  my- 
self— I  think  we  have  a  point  here  which  deserves  our  careful  con- 
sideration ;  for  it  may  be  a  point  which  is  open  to  attack.  Pray  un- 
derstand that  I  am  now  appealing  to  you  solely  as  a  lawyer,  who  is 
obliged  to  look  all  jiossible  eventualities  in  the  face.  I  have  no  wish 
to  intrude  on  your  private  affairs ;  I  have  no  wish  to  write  a  word 
which  could  be  construed  into  any  indirect  reflection  on  yourself. 

"  If  you  tell  me  that,  so  far  as  you  know,  your  husband  capri- 
ciously struck  you  out  of  his  will,  without  assignable  reason  or  mo- 
tive for  doing  so,  and  without  other  obvious  explanation  of  his  com 
duct  than  that  he  acted  in  this  matter  entirely  under  the  influence 
of  Mrs.  Lecount,  I  will  immediately  take  Counsel's  opinion  touch- 
ing the  propriety  of  disputing  the  will  on  this  ground.  If,  on  the 
other  hand,  you  tell  me  that  there  are  reasons  (known  to  yourself, 
though  unknown  to  me)  for  not  taking  the  course  I  propose,  I  will 
accept  that  intimation  without  troubling  you,  unless  you  wish  it,  to 
explain  yourself  further.  In  this  latter  event,  I  will  write  to  you 
again ;  for  I  shall  then  have  something  more  to  say,  which  may 
greatly  surprise  you,  on  the  subject  of  the  Will. 

"  Faithfully  yours,  John  Loscqmbe." 


496  NO   NAME. 

vn. 

From  Mrs.  Noel  Vanstone  to  Mr.  Loscombe. 

"November  16th. 
"Dear  Sir, — Accept  my  best  thanks  for  the  kindness  and  con- 
sideration with  which  you  have  treated  me;  and  let  the  anxieties 
under  which  I  am  now  suffering  plead  my  excuse,  if  I  reply  to  your 
letter  without  ceremony,  in  the  fewest  possible  words. 

"  I  have  my  own  reasons  for  not  hesitating  to  answer  your  ques- 
tion in  the  negative.  It  is  impossible  for  us  to  go  to  law,  as  you 
propose,  on  the  subject  of  the  Will. 

"  Believe  me,  dear  sir,  yours  gratefully, 

"Magdalen  Vanstone." 

vin. 

From  Mr.  Loscombe  to  Mrs.  Noel  Vanstone. 

"Lincoln's  Inn,  November  17th. 

"  Dear  Madam, — I  beg  to  acknowledge  the  receipt  of  your  let- 
ter, answering  my  proposal  in  the  negative,  for  reasons  of  your  own. 
Under  these  circumstances — on  which  I  offer  no  comment — I  beg  to 
perform  my  promise  of  again  communicating  with  you  on  the  sub- 
ject of  your  late  husband's  Will. 

"  Be  so  kind  as  to  look  at  your  copy  of  the  docmneirt.  You  will 
find  that  the  clause  which  devises  the  whole  residue  of  your  hus- 
band's estate  to  Admiral  Bartram  ends  in  these  terms :  tooeJyy  Mm 
applied  to  such  uses  as  he  may  think  jit. 

"  Simple  as  they  may  seem  to  you,  these  are  very  remarkable 
words.  In  the  first  place,  no  practical  Lawyer  would  have  used 
them  in  drawing  your  husband's  will.  In  the  second  place,  they 
are  utterly  useless  to  serve  any  plain  straightforward  purpose.  The 
legacy  is  left  unconditionally  to  the  admiral ;  and  in  the  same 
breath  he  is  told  that  he  may  do  what  he  likes  with  it !  The  phrase 
points  clearly  to  one  of  two  conclusions.  It  has  either  dropped 
from  the  writer's  pen  in  pure  ignorance,  or  it  has  been  carefully  set 
where  it  appears  to  serve  the  purpose  of  a  snare.  I  am  firmly  per- 
suaded that  the  latter  explanation  is  the  right  one.  The  words  are 
expressly  intended  to  mislead  some  person — yourself  in  all  probabil- 
ity— and  the  cunning  which  has  put  them  to  that  use  is  a  cunning 
which  (as  constantly  happens  when  uninstructed  persons  meddle 
with  law)  has  overreached  itself.  My  thirty  years'  experience  reads 
those  words  in  a  sense  exactly  Opposite  to  the  sense  which  they  are 
intended  to  convey.  I  say  that  Admiral  Bartram  is  not  free  to  ap- 
ply his  legacy  to  such  purposes  as  he  may  think  fit ;  L  believe  he  is 
privately  controlled  by  a  supplementary  document  in  the  shape  of  a 
Secret  Trust. 


NO   NAME.  49 1 

"  I  can  easily  explain  to  you  what  I  mean  by  a  Secret  Trust.  It 
Is  usually  contained  in  the  form  of  a  letter  from  a  Testator  to  his 
Executors,  privately  informing  them  of  testamentary  intentions  on 
his  part  which  he  has  not  thought  proper  openly  to  acknowledge 
in  his  will.  I  leave  you  a  hundred  pounds ;  and  I  write  a  private 
letter  enjoining  you,  on  taking  the  legacy,  not  to  devote  it  to  your 
own  purposes,  but  to  give  it  to  some  third  person,  whose  name  I 
have  my  own  reasons  for  not  mentioning  in  my  will.  That  is  a 
Secret  Trust. 

"  If  I  am  right  in  my  own  persuasion  that  such  a  document  as  I 
here  describe  is  at  this  moment  in  Admiral  Bartram's  possession — a 
persuasion  based,  in  the  first  instance,  on  the  extraordinary  words 
that  I  have  quoted  to  you ;  and,  in  the  second  instance,  on  purely 
legal  considerations  with  which  it  is  needless  to  incumber  my  letter 
—if  I  am  right  in  this  opinion,  the  discovery  of  the  Secret  Trust 
would  be,  in  all  probability,  a  most  important  discovery  to  your 
interests.  I  will  not  trouble  you  with  technical  reasons,  or  with 
references  to  my  experience  in  these  matters,  which  only  a  profes- 
sional man  could  understand.  I  will  merely  say  that  I  don't  give 
up  your  cause  as  utterly  lost,  until  the  conviction  now  impressed  on 
my  own  mind  is  proved  to  be  wrong. 

"  I  can  add  no  more,  while  this  important  question  still  remains 
involved  in  doubt ;  neither  can  I  suggest  any  means  of  solving  that 
doubt.  If  the  existence  of  the  Trust  was  proved,  and  if  the  nature 
of  the  stipulations  contained  in  it  was  made  known  to  me,  I  could 
then  say  positively  what  the  legal  chances  were  of  your  being  able 
to  set  up  a  Case  on  the  strength  of  it :  and  I  could  also  tell  you 
whether  I  should  or  should  not  feel  justified  in  personally  under- 
taking that  Case  under  a  private  arrangement  with  yourself. 

"  As  things  are,  I  can  make  no  arrangement,  and  offer  no  advice. 
I  can  only  put  you  confidentially  in  possession  of  my  private  opin- 
ion, leaving  you  entirely  free  to  draw  your  own  inferences  from  it, 
and  regretting  that  I  can  not  wTrite  more  confidently  and  more  defi- 
nitely than  I  have  written  here.  All  that  I  could  conscientiously 
say  on  this  very  difficult  and  delicate  subject,  I  have  said. 
"  Believe  me,  dear  madam,  faithfully  yours, 

"  John  Loscombe. 

"  P.S. — I  omitted  one  consideration  in  my  last  letter,  which  I  may 
mention  here,  in  order  to  show  you  that  no  point  in  connection  with 
the  case  has  escaped  me.  If  it  had  been  possible  to  show  that  Mr. 
Vanstone  was  domiciled  in  Scotland  at  the  time  of  his  death,  we 
might  have  asserted  your  interests  by  means  of  the  Scotch  law, 
which  does  not  allow  a  husband  the  power  of  absolutely  disinherit- 
ing his  wife.  But  it  is  impossible  to  assert  that  Mr.  Vanstone  was 
legally  domiciled  in  Scotland.     He  came  there  as  a  visitor  only  ;  he 


498  NO   NAME. 

occupied  a  furnished  house  for  the  season ;  and  he  never  expressed, 
either  by  word  or  deed,  the  slightest  intention  of  settling  permanent- 
ly in  the  North." 

IX. 

From  Mrs.  Noel  Vanstone  to  Mr.  Loscombe. 

"  Dear  Sir,— I  have  read  your  letter  more  than  once,  with  the 
deepest  interest  and  attention ;  and  the  oftener  I  read  it,  the  more 
firmly  I  believe  that  there  is  really  such  a  Letter  as  you  mention  in 
Admiral  Bartram's  hands. 

"  It  is  my  interest  that  the  discovery  should  be  made,  and  I  at 
once  acknowledge  to  you  that  I  am  determined  to  find  the  means 
of  secretly  and  certainly  making  it.  My  resolution  rests  on  other 
motives  than  the  motives  which  you  might  naturally  suppose  would 
influence  me.  I  only  tell  you  this,  in  case  you  feel  inclined  to  re- 
monstrate. There  is  good  reason  for  what  I  say,  when  I  assure  you 
that  remonstrance  will  be  useless. 

"  I  ask  for  no  assistance  in  this  matter ;  I  will  trouble  nobody  for 
advice.  You  shall  not  be  involved  in  any  rash  proceedings  on  my 
part.  Whatever  danger  there  may  be,  I  will  risk  it.  Whatever  de- 
lays may  happen,  I  will  bear  them  patiently.  I  am  lonely  and 
friendless,  and  sorely  troubled  in  mind,  but  I  am  strong  enough  to 
win  my  way  through  worse  trials  than  these.  My  spirits  will  rise 
again,  and  my  time  will  come.  If  that  Secret  Trust  is  in  Admiral 
Bartram's  possession — when  you  next  see  me,  you  shall  see  me  with 
it  in  my  own  hands.     Yours  gratefully, 

"Magdalen  Vanstone." 


NO   NAME.  499 


THE  SIXTH  SCENE. 

ST.  JOHN'S  WOOD. 


CHAPTER  I. 

It  wanted  little  more  than  a  fortnight  to  Christmas;  but  the 
weather  showed  no  signs  yet  of  the  frost  and  snow,  conventionally 
associated  with  the  coming  season.  The  atmosphere  was  unnatu- 
rally warm,  and  the  old  year  was  dying  feebly  in  sapping  rain  and 
enervating  mist. 

Toward  the  close  of  the  December  afternoon,  Magdalen  sat  alone 
in  the  lodging  which  she  had  occupied  since  her  arrival  in  London. 
The  fire  burned  sluggishly  in  the  narrow  little  grate ;  the  view  of 
the  wet  houses  and  soaking  gardens  opposite  was  darkening  fast ; 
and  the  bell  of  the  suburban  muffin-boy  tinkled  in  the  distance 
drearily.  Sitting  close  over  the  fire,  with  a  little  money  lying  loose 
in  her  lap,  Magdalen  absently  shifted  the  coins  to  and  fro  on  the 
smooth  surface  of  her  dress,  incessantly  altering  their  positions  to- 
ward each  other,  as  if  they  were  pieces  of  a  "  child's  puzzle  "  which 
she  was  trying  to  put  together.  The  dim  fire-light  flaming  up  on 
her  faintly  from  time  to  time  showed  changes  which  would  have 
told  their  own  tale  sadly  to  friends  of  former  days.  Her  dress  had 
become  loose  through  the  wasting  of  her  figure ;  but  she  had  not 
cared  to  alter  it.  The  old  restlessness  in  her  movements,  the  old 
mobility  in  her  expression,  appeared  no  more.  Her  face  passively 
maintained  its  haggard  composure,  its  changeless  unnatural  calm. 
Mr.  Pendril  might  have  softened  his  hard  sentence  on  her,  if  he  had 
seen  her  now ;  and  Mrs.  Lecount,  in  the  plenitude  of  her  triumph, 
might  have  pitied  her  fallen  enemy  at  last. 

Hardly  four  months  had  passed  since  the  wedding-day  at  Aid- 
borough,  and  the  penalty  for  that  day  was  paid  already— paid  in 
unavailing  remorse,  in  hopeless  isolation,  in  irremediable  defeat ! 
Let  this  be  said  for  her ;  let  the  truth  which  has  been  told  of  the 
fault  be  told  of  the  expiation  as  well.  Let  it  be  recorded  of  her 
that  she  enjoyed  no  secret  triumph  on  the  day  of  her  success.  The 
horror  of  herself  with  which  her  own  act  had  inspired  her,  had 
risen  to  its  climax  when  the  design  of  her  marriage  was  achieved. 
She  had  never  suffered  in  secret  as  she  suffered  when  the  Combe- 
Raven  money  was  left  to  her  in  her  husband's  will.     She  had  nevet 


§00  NO    NAME. 

felt  the  means  taken  to  accomplish  her  end  so  unutterably  degrad- 
ing to  herself,  as  she  felt  them  on  the  day  when  the  end  was  reach- 
ed. Out  of  that  feeling  had  grown  the  remorse  which  had  hurried 
her  to  seek  pardon  and  consolation  in  her  sister's  love.  Never  since 
it  had  first  entered  her  heart,  never  since  she  had  first  felt  it  sacred 
to  her  at  her  father's  grave,  had  the  Purpose  to  which  she  had 
vowed  herself,  so  nearly  lost  its  hold  on  her  as  at  this  time.  Never 
might  Norah's  influence  have  achieved  such  good  as  on  the  day 
when  that  influence  was  lost— the  day  when  the  fatal  words  were 
overheard  at  Miss  Garth's — the  day  when  the  fatal  letter  from  Scot- 
land told  of  Mrs.  Lecount's  revenge. 

The  harm  was  done  ;  the  chance  was  gone.  Time  and  Hope  alike 
had  both  passed  her  by. 

Faintly  and  more  faintly  the  inner  voices  now  pleaded  with  her 
to  pause  on  the  downward  way.  The  discovery  which  had  poison- 
ed her  heart  with  its  first  distrust  of  her  sister ;  the  tidings  which 
had  followed  it  of  her  husband's  death ;  the  sting  of  Mrs.  Lecount's 
triumph,  felt  through  all,  had  done  their  work.  The  remorse  which 
had  imbittered  her  married  life  was  deadened  now  to  a  dull  de- 
spair. It  was  too  late  to  make  the  atonement  of  confession — too 
late  to  lay  bare  to  the  miserable  husband  the  deeper  secrets  that 
had  once  lurked  in  the  heart  of  the  miserable  wife.  Innocent  of  all 
thought  of  the  hideous  treachery  which  Mrs.  Lecount  had  imputed 
to  her — she  was  guilty  of  knowing  how  his  health  was  broken  when 
she  married  him ;  guilty  of  knowing,  when  he  left  her  the  Combe- 
Raven  money,  that  the  accident  of  a  moment,  harmless  to  other  men, 
might  place  his  life  in  jeopardy,  and  effect  her  release.  His  death 
had  told  her  this — had  told  her  plainly  what  she  had  shrunk,  in 
his  lifetime,  from  openly  acknowledging  to  herself.  From  the  dull 
torment  of  that  reproach ;  from  the  dreary  wretchedness  of  doubt- 
ing every  body,  even  to  Norah  herself;  from  the  bitter  sense  of  her 
defeated  schemes ;  from  the  blank  solitude  of  her  friendless  life — 
what  refuge  was  left?  But  one  refuge  now.  She  turned  to  the  re- 
lentless Purpose  which  was  hurrying  her  to  her  ruin,  and  cried  to 
it  with  the  daring  of  her  despair — Drive  me  on  ! 

For  days  and  days  together  she  had  bent  her  mind  on  the  one 
object  which  occupied  it  since  she  had  received  the  lawyer's  letter. 
For  days  and  days  together  she  had  toiled  to  meet  the  first  necessi- 
ty of  her  position — to  find  a  means  of  discovering  the  Secret  Trust. 
There  was  no  hope,  this  time,  of  assistance  from  Captain  Wragge. 
Long  practice  had  made  the  old  militia-man  an  adept  in  the  art  of 
vanishing.  The  plow  of  the  moral  agriculturist  left  no  furrows — 
not  a  trace  of  him  was  to  be  found  !  Mr.  Loscombe  was  too  cautious 
to  commit  himself  to  an  active  course  of  any  kind :  he  passively 
maintained  his  opinion,  and  left  the  rest  to  his  client — he  desired  t<. 


NO   NAME.  501 

know  nothing  until  the  Trust  was  placed  in  his  hands.  Magdalen's 
interests  were  now  in  Magdalen's  own  sole  care.  Risk  or  no  risk, 
what  she  did  next  she  must  do  by  herself. 

The  prospect  had  not  daunted  her.  Alone  she  had  calculated 
the  chances  that  might  be  tried.  Alone  she  was  now  determined 
to  make  the  attempt. 

"  The  time  has  come,"  she  said  to  herself,  as  she  sat  over  the  fire. 
"  I  must  sound  Louisa  first." 

She  collected  the  scattered  coins  in  her  lap,  and  placed  them  in  a 
little  heap  on  the  table,  then  rose  and  rang  the  bell.  The  landlady 
answered  it. 

"  Is  my  servant  down  stairs  ?"  inquired  Magdalen. 

"Yes,  ma'am.     She  is  having  her  tea." 

"  When  she  has  done,  say  I  want  her  up  here.  Wait  a  moment. 
You  will  find  your  money  on  the  table — the  money  I  owe  you  for 
last  week.     Can  you  find  it  ?  or  would  you  like  to  have  a  candle  ?" 

"  It's  rather  dark,  ma'am." 

Magdalen  lit  a  candle.  "  What  notice  must  I  give  you,"  she  ask- 
ed, as  she  put  the  candle  on  the  table,  "  before  I  leave  ?" 

"A  week  is  the  usual  notice,  ma'am.  I  hope  you  have  no  objec- 
tion to  make  to  the  house  ?" 

"None  whatever.  I  only  ask  the  question,  because  I  may  be 
obliged  to  leave  these  lodgings  rather  sooner  than  I  anticipated. 
Is  the  money  right  ?" 

"  Quite  right,  ma'am.     Here  is  your  receipt." 

"  Thank  you.  Don't  forget  to  send  Louisa  to  me  as  soon  as  she 
has  done  her  tea." 

.The  landlady  -withdrew.  As  soon  as  she  was  alone  again,  Mag- 
dalen extinguished  the  candle,  and  drew  an  empty  chair  close  to  her 
own  chair  on  the  hearth.  This  done,  she  resumed  her  former  place, 
and  waited  until  Louisa  appeared.  There  was  doubt  in  her  face  as 
she  sat  looking  mechanically  into  the  fire.  "A  poor  chance,"  she 
thought  to  herself;  "  but,  poor  as  it  is,  a  chance  that  I  must  try." 

In  ten  minutes  more,  Louisa's  meek  knock  was  softly  audible  out- 
side. She  was  surprised,  on  entering  the  room,  to  find  no  other 
light  in  it  than  the  light  of  the  fire. 

"  Will  you  have  the  candles,  ma'am  ?"  she  inquired,  respectfully. 

"  We  will,  have  candles  if  you  wish  for  them  yourself,"  replied 
Magdalen;  "not  otherwise.  I  have  something  to  say  to  you. 
When  I  have  said  it,  you  shall  decide  whether  we  sit  together  in 
the  dark  or  in  the  light." 

Louisa  waited  near  the  door,  and  listened  to  those  strange  words 
in  silent  astonishment. 

"  Come  here,"  said  Magdalen,  pointing  to  the  empty  chair  ;  "  come 
here  and  sit  down." 


502  NO    NAME. 

Louisa  advanced,  and  timidly  removed  the  chair  from  its  posi- 
tion at  her  mistress's  side.  Magdalen  instantly  drew  it  back  again. 
"  No  !"  she  said.  "  Come  closer — come  close  by  me."  After  a  mo- 
ment's hesitation,  Louisa  obeyed. 

"  I  ask  you  to  sit  near  me,"  pursued  Magdalen,  "  because  I  wish 
to  speak  to  you  on  equal  terms.  Whatever  distinctions  there  might 
once  have  been  between  us  are  now  at  an  end.  I  am  a  lonely  wom- 
an thrown  helpless  on  my  own  resources,  without  rank  or  place  in 
the  world.  I  may  or  may  not  keep  you  as  my  friend.  As  mistress 
and  maid  the  connection  between  us  must  come  to  an  end." 

"  Oh,  ma'am,  don't,  don't  say  that !"  pleaded  Louisa,  faintly. 

Magdalen  sorrowfully  and  steadily  went  on. 

"  When  you  first  came  to  me,"  she  resumed,  "  I  thought  I  should 
not  like  you.  I  have  learned  to  like  you — I  have  learned  to  be 
grateful  to  you.  From  first  to  last  you  have  been  faithful  and 
good  to  me.  The  least  I  can  do  in  return  is  not  to  stand  in  the 
way  of  your  future  prospects." 

"  Don't  send  me  away,  ma'am  !"  said  Louisa,  imploringly.  "  If 
you  can  only  help  me  with  a  little  money  now  and  then,  I'll  wait 
for  my  wages — I  will,  indeed." 

Magdalen  took  her  hand  and  went  on,  as  sorrowfully  and  as  stead- 
ily as  before. 

"  My  future  life  is  all  darkness,  all  uncertainty,"  she  said.  "  The 
next  step  I  may  take  may  lead  me  to  my  prosperity  or  may  lead  me 
to  my  ruin.  Can  I  ask  you  to  share  such  a  prospect  as  this  ?  If 
your  future  was  as  uncertain  as  mine  is — if  you,  too,  were  a  friend- 
less woman  thrown  on  the  world — my  conscience  might  be  easy  in 
letting  you  cast  your  lot  with  mine.  I  might  accept  your  attach- 
ment, for  I  might  feel  I  was  not  wronging  you.  How  can  I  feel 
this  in  your  case  ?  You  have  a  future  to  look  to.  You  are  an  ex- 
oellent  servant ;  you  can  get  another  place — a  far  better  place  than 
mine.  You  can  refer  to  me  ;  and  if  the  character  I  give  is  not  con- 
sidered sufficient,  you  can  refer  to  the  mistress  you  served  before 
me — " 

At  the  instant  when  that  reference  to  the  girl's  last  employer  es- 
caped Magdalen's  lips,  Louisa  snatched  her  hand  away,  and  started 
up  affrightedly  from  her  chair.  There  was  a  moment's  silence. 
Both  mistress  and  maid  were  equally  taken  by  surprise. 

Magdalen  was  the  first  to  recover  herself. 

"  Is  it  getting  too  dark  ?"  she  asked,  significantly.  "Are  you  go- 
ing to  light  the  candles,  after  all  ?" 

Louisa  drew  back  into  the  dimmest  corner  of  the  room. 

"  You  suspect  me,  ma'am  !"  she  answered  out  of  the  darkness,  in 
a  breathless  whisper.  "  Who  has  told  you  ?  How  did  you  find 
out —  ?"    She  stopped,  and  burst  into  tears.     "  I  deserve  your  sus- 


NO   NAME.  5G3 

picion,"  she  said,  struggling  to  compose  herself.  "  I  can't  deny  it 
to  you.  You  have  treated  me  so  kindly  ;  you  have  made  me  so  fond 
of  you  !  Forgive  me,  Mrs.  Vanstone — I  am  a  wretch  ;  I  have  de- 
ceived you." 

"  Come  here  and  sit  down  by  me  again,"  said  Magdalen.  "  Come 
— or  I  will  get  up  myself  and  bring  you  back." 

Louisa  slowly  returned  to  her  place.  Dim  as  the  fire-light  was, 
she  seemed  to  fear  it.  She  held  her  handkerchief  over  her  face, 
and  shrank  from  her  mistress  as  she  seated  herself  again  in  the 
chair. 

"  You  are  wrong  in  thinking  that  any  one  has  betrayed  you  to 
me,"  said  Magdalen.  "  All  that  I  know  of  you  is,  what  your  own 
looks  and  ways  have  told  me.  You  have  had  some  secret  trouble 
weighing  on  your  mind  ever  since  you  have  been  in  my  service.  I 
confess  I  have  spoken  with  the  wish  to  find  out  more  of  you  and 
your  past  life  than  I  have  found  out  yet — not  because  I  am  curious, 
but  because  I  have  my  secret  troubles  too.  Are  you  an  unhappy 
woman,  like  me  ?  If  you  are,  I  will  take  you  into  my  confidence. 
If  you  have  nothing  to  tell  me — if  you  choose  to  keep  your  secret — 
I  don't  blame  you ;  I  only  say,  Let  us  part.  I  won't  ask  how  you 
have  deceived  me.  I  will  only  remember  that  you  have  been  an 
honest  and  faithful  and  competent  servant  while  I  have  employed 
you ;  and  I  will  say  as  much  in  your  favor  to  any  new  mistress  you 
like  to  send  to  me." 

She  waited  for  the  reply.  For  a  moment,  and  only  for  a  moment, 
Louisa  hesitated.  The  girl's  nature  was  weak,  but  not  depraved. 
She  was  honestly  attached  to  her  mistress ;  and  she  spoke  with  a 
courage  which  Magdalen  had  not  expected  from  her. 

"  If  you  send  me  away,  ma'am,"  she  said,  "  I  won't  take  my  char- 
acter from  you  till  I  have  told  you  the  truth ;  I  won't  return  your 
kindness  by  deceiving  you  a  second  time.  Did  my  master  ever  tell 
you  how  he  engaged  me  ?" 

"  No.     I  never  asked  him,  and  he  never  told  me." 

"  He  engaged  me,  ma'am,  with  a  written  character — " 

"  Yes  ?" 

"  The  character  was  a  false  one." 

Magdalen  drew  back  in  amazement.  The  confession  she  heard 
was  not  the  confession  she  had  anticipated. 

"Did  your  mistress  refuse  to  give  you  a  character?"  she  asked. 
"Why?" 

Louisa  dropped  on  her  knees,  and  hid  her  face  in  her  mistress's 
lap.  "  Don't  ask  me  !"  she  said.  "  I'm  a  miserable,  degraded  crea- 
ture ;  I'm  not  fit  to  be  in  the  same  room  with  you  !" 

Magdalen  bent  over  her,  and  whispered  a  question  in  her  ear. 
Louisa  whispered  back  the  one  sad  word  of  reply. 


504  NO   NAME. 

'•'•  Has  he  deserted  you?"  asked  Magdalen,  after  waiting  a  moment, 
and  thinking  first. 

"  No." 

"  Do  you  love  him  ?" 

"Dearly." 

The  remembrance  of  her  own  loveless  marriage  stung  Magdalen 
to  the  quick. 

"For  God's  sake,  don't  kneel  to  wie/"  she  cried,  passionately. 
"  If  there  is  a  degraded  woman  in  this  room,  I  am  the  woman — not 
you !" 

She  raised  the  girl  by  main  force  from  her  knees,  and  put  her 
back  in  the  chair.  They  both  waited  a  little  in  silence.  Keeping 
her  hand  on  Louisa's  shoulder,  Magdalen  seated  herself  again,  and 
looked  with  unutterable  bitterness  of  sorrow  into  the  dying  fire. 
"  Oh,"  she  thought,  "  what  happy  women  there  are  in  the  world ! 
Wives  who  love  their  husbands  !  Mothers  who  are  not  ashamed  to 
own  their  children  !  Are  you  quieter  ?"  she  asked,  gently  address- 
ing Louisa  once  more.  "  Can  you  answer  me,  if  I  ask  you  something 
dse  ?     Where  is  the  child?" 

"  The  child  is  out  at  nurse." 

"  Does  the  father  help  to  support  it  ?" 

"  He  does  all  he  can,  ma'am." 

"  What  is  he  ?     Is  he  in  service  ?     Is  he  in  a  trade  ?" 

"  His  father  is  a  master-carpenter — he  works  in  his  father's  yard." 

"  If  he  has  got  work,  why  has  he  not  married  you  ?" 

"  It  is  his  father's  fault,  ma'am — not  his.  His  father  has  no  pity 
on  us.  He  would  be  turned  out  of  house  and  home  if  he  married 
me." 

"  Can  he  get  no  work  elsewhere  ?" 

"It's  hard  to  get  good  work  in  London,  ma'am.  There  are  so 
many  in  London — they  take  the  bread  out  of  each  other's  mouths. 
If  we  had  only  had  the  money  to  emigrate,  he  would  have  married 
me  long  since." 

"Would  he  marry  you  if  you  had  the  money  now  ?" 

"  I  am  sure  he  would,  ma'am.  He  could  get  plenty  of  work  in 
Australia,  and  double  and  treble  the  wages  he  gets  here.  He  is  try- 
ing hard,  and  I  am  trying  hard,  to  save  a  little  toward  it — I  put  by 
all  I  can  spare  from  my  child.  But  it  is  so  little  !  If  we  live  for 
years  to  come,  there  seems  no  hope  for  us.  I  know  i  have  done 
wrong  every  way — I  know  I  don't  deserve  to  be  happy.  But  how 
could  I  let  my  child  suffer? — I  was  obliged  to  go  to  service.  My 
mistress  was  hard  on  me,  and  my  health  broke  down  in  trying  to 
live  by  my  needle.  I  would  never  have  deceived  any  body  by  a 
false  character,  if  there  had  been  another  chance  for  me.  I  was 
alone  and  helpless,  ma'am ;  and  I  can  only  ask  you  to  forgive  me." 


NO    NAME.  505 

"Ask  better  women  than  T  am,"  said  Magdalen,  sadly.  "I  am 
only  tit  to  feel  for  you,  and  I  do  feel  for  you  with  all  my  heart.  In 
your  place  1  should  have  gone  into  service  with  a  false  character 
too.  Say  no  more  of  the  past — you  don't  know  how  you  hurt  me 
in  speaking  of  it.  Talk  of  the  future.  I  think  I  can  help  you,  and 
do  you  no  harm.  I  think  you  can  help  me,  and  do  me  the  greatest 
of  all  services,  in  return.  Wait,  and  you  shall  hear  what  I  mean. 
Suppose  you  were  married — how  much  would  it  cost  for  you  and 
your  husband  to  emigrate  ?" 

Louisa  mentioned  the  cost  of  a  steerage  passage  to  Australia  for  a 
man  and  his  wife.  She  spoke  in  low,  hopeless  tones.  Moderate  as 
the  sum  was,  it  looked  like  unattainable  wealth  in  her  eyes. 

Magdalen  started  in  her  chair,  and  took  the  girl's  hand  once  more. 

"  Louisa  !"  she  said,  earnestly  ;  "  if  I  gave  you  the  money,  what 
would  you  do  for  me  in  return  ?" 

The  proposal  seemed  to  strike  Louisa  speechless  with  astonish- 
ment. She  trembled  violently,  and  said  nothing.  Magdalen  re- 
peated her  words. 

"  Oh,  ma'am,  do  you  mean  it  ?"  said  the  girl.  "  Do  you  really 
mean  it  ?" 

"  Yes,"  replied  Magdalen  ;  "  I  really  mean  it.  What  would  you 
do  for  me  in  return  ?" 

"Do?"  repeated  Louisa.  "Oh  what  is  there  I  would  not  do!" 
She  tried  to  kiss  her  mistress's  hand ;  but  Magdalen  would  not  per- 
mit it.     She  resolutely,  almost  roughly,  drew  her  hand  away. 

"  I  am  laying  you  under  no  obligation,"  she  said.  "  We  are  serv- 
ing each  other — that  is  all.     Sit  quiet,  and  let  me  think." 

For  the  next  ten  minutes  there  was  silence  in  the  room.  At  the 
end  of  that  time  Magdalen  took  out  her  watch  and  held  it  close  to 
the  grate.  There  was  just  fire-light  enough  to  show  her  the  hour. 
It  was  close  on  six  o'clock. 

"  Are  you  composed  enough  to  go  down  stairs  and  deliver  a  mes- 
sage ?"  she  asked,  rising  from  her  chair  as  she  spoke  to  Louisa  again. 
"  It  is  a  very  simple  message — it  is  only  to  tell  the  boy  that  I  want 
a  cab  as  soon  as  he  can  get  me  one.  I  must  go  out  immediately. 
You  shall  know  why  later  in  the  evening.  I  have  much  more  to 
say  to  you ;  but  there  is  no  time  to  say  it  now.  When  I  am  gone, 
bring  your  work  up  here,  and  wait  for  my  return.  I  shall  be  back 
before  bed-time." 

Without  another  word  of  explanation,  she  hurriedly  lit  a  candle, 
and  withdrew  into  the  bedroom  to  put  on  her  bonnet  and  shawl. 


506  NO   NAME. 


CHAPTER  n. 

Between  nine  and  ten  o'clock  the  same  evening,  Louisa,  waiting 
anxiously,  heard  the  long-expected  knock  at  the  house  door.  She 
ran  down  stairs  at  once  and  let  her  mistress  in. 

Magdalen's  face  was  flushed.  She  showed  far  more  agitation  on 
returning  to  the  house  than  she  had  shown  on  leaving  it.  "  Keep 
your  place  at  the  table,"  she  said  to  Louisa,  impatiently ;  "  but  lay 
aside  your  work.  I  want  you  to  attend  carefully  to  what  I  am  go- 
ing to  say." 

Louisa  obeyed.  Magdalen  seated  herself  at  the  opposite  side  of 
the  table,  and  moved  the  candles,  so  as  to  obtain  a  clear  and  unin- 
terrupted view  of  her  servant's  face. 

"  Have  you  noticed  a  respectable  elderly  woman,"  she  began  ab- 
ruptly, "  who  has  been  here  once  or  twice  in  the  last  fortnight  to 
pay  me  a  visit  ?" 

"  Yes,  ma'am ;  I  think  I  let  her  in  the  second  time  she  came.  An 
elderly  person  named  Mrs.  Attwood  ?" 

"  That  is  the  person  I  mean.  Mrs.  Attwood  is  Mr;  Loscombe's 
housekeeper ;  not  the  housekeeper  at  his  private  residence,  but  the 
housekeeper  at  his  offices  in  Lincoln's  Inn.  I  promised  to  go  and 
drink  tea  with  her  some  evening  this  week,  and  I  have  been  to- 
night. It  is  strange  of  me,  is  it  not,  to  be  on  these  familiar  terms 
with  a  woman  in  Mrs.  Attwood's  situation  ?" 

Louisa  made  no  answer  in  words.  Her  face  spoke  for  her:  she 
could  hardly  avoid  thinking  it  strange. 

"  I  had  a  motive  for  making  friends  with  Mrs.  Attwood,"  Magda- 
len went  on.  "  She  is  a  widow,  with  a  large  family  of  daughters. 
Her  daughters  are  all  in  service.  One  of  them  is  an  under-house- 
maid,  in  the  service  of  Admiral  Bartram,  at  St.  Crux-in-the-Marsh. 
I  found  that  out  from  Mrs. Attwood's  master;  and  as  soon  as  I  ar- 
rived at  the  discovery,  I  privately  determined  to  make  Mrs.  Att- 
wood's acquaintance.     Stranger  still,  is  it  not  ?" 

Louisa  began  to  look  a  little  uneasy.  Her  mistress's  manner  was 
at  variance  with  her  mistress's  words — it  was  plainly  suggestive  of 
something  startling  to  come. 

"  What  attraction  Mrs.  Attwood  finds  iu  my  society,"  Magdalen 
continued, "  I  can  not  presume  to  say.  I  can  only  tell  you  she  has 
#een  better  days ;  she  is  an  educated  person ;  and  she  may  like  my 
f*ociety  on  that  account.     At  any  rate,  she  has  readily  met  my  ad' 


NO    NAME.  507 

vances  toward  her.  What  attraction  I  find  in  this  good  woman,  on 
my  side,  is  soon  told.  I  have  a  great  curiosity — an  unaccountable 
curiosity,  you  will  think — about  the  present  course  of  household  af- 
fairs at  St.  Crux  in-the-Marsh.  Mrs.  Attwood's  daughter  is  a  good 
girl,  and  constantly  writes  to  her  mother.  Her  mother  is  proud  of 
the  letters  and  proud  of  the  girl,  and  is  ready  enough  to  talk  about 
her  daughter  and  her  daughter's  place.  That  is  Mrs.  Attwood's  at- 
traction to  me.     You  understand,  so  far  ?" 

Yes — Louisa  understood.     Magdalen  went  on. 

"  Thanks  to  Mrs.  Attwood  and  Mrs.  Attwood's  daughter,"  she 
said,  "  I  know  some  curious  particulars  already  of  the  household  at 
St.  Crux.  Servants'  tongues  and  servants'  letters — as  I  need  not  tell 
you — are  oftener  occupied  with  their  masters  and  mistresses  than 
their  masters  and  mistresses  suppose.  The  only  mistress  at  St.  Crux 
is  the  housekeeper.  But  there  is  a  master — Admiral  Bartram.  He 
appears  to  be  a  strange  old  man,  whose  whims  and  fancies  amuse 
his  servants  as  well  as  his  friends.  One  of  his  fancies  (the  only  one 
we  need  trouble  ourselves  to  notice)  is,  that  he  had  men  enough 
about  him  when  he  was  living  at  sea,  and  that  now  he  is  living  on 
shore,  he  will  be  waited  on  by  women-servants  alone.  The  one  man 
in  the  house  is  an  old  sailor,  who  has  been  all  his  life  with  his  mas- 
ter— he  is  a  kind  of  pensioner  at  St.  Crux,  and  has  little  or  noth- 
ing to  do  with  the  house-work.  The  other  servants,  indoors,  are  all 
women ;  and  instead  of  a  footman  to  wait  on  him  at  dinner,  the  ad- 
miral has  a  parlor-maid.  The  parlor-maid  now  at  St.  Crux  is  en- 
gaged to  be  married,  and  as  soon  as  her  master  can  suit  himself  she 
is  going  awAy.  These  discoveries  I  made  some  days  since.  But 
when  I  saw  Mrs.  Attwood  to-night,  she  had  received  another  letter 
from  her  daughter  in  the  interval,  and  that  letter  has  helped  me  to 
find  out  something  more.  The  housekeeper  is  at  her  wits'  end  to 
find  a  new  servant.  Her  master  insists  on  youth  and  good  looks — 
he  leaves  every  thing  else  to  the  housekeeper — but  he  will  have  that. 
All  the  inquiries  made  in  the  neighborhood  have  failed  to  produce 
the  sort  of  parlor-maid  whom  the  admiral  wants.  If  nothing  can  be 
done  in  the  next  fortnight  or  three  weeks,  the  housekeeper  will  ad- 
vertise in  the  Times ;  and  will  come  to  London  herself  to  see  the 
applicants,  and  to  make  strict  personal  inquiry  into  their  characters." 

Louisa  looked  at  her  mistress  more  attentively  than  ever.  The 
expression  of  perplexity  left  her  face,  and  a  shade  of  disappointment 
appeared  there  in  its  stead. 

"  Bear  in  mind  what  I  have  said,"  pursued  Magdalen ;  "  and  wait 
a  minute  more,  while  I  ask  you  some  questions.  Don't  think  you 
understand  me  yet  —  I  can  assure  you,  you  don't  understand  me. 
Have  you  always  lived  in  service  as  lady's  maid  ?" 

"  No,  ma'am." 


508  NO   NAME. 

"  Have  you  ever  lived  as  parlor-maid  ?" 

"  Only  in  one  place,  ma'am,  and  not  for  long  there." 

"  I  suppose  you  lived  long  enough  to  learn  your  duties  ?" 

"Yes,  ma'am.'' 

"  What  were  your  duties  besides  waiting  at  table  ?" 

"  I  had  to  show  visitors  in." 

"  Yes ;  and  what  else  ?" 

"  I  had  the  plate  and  the  glass  to  look  after ;  and  the  table-linen 
was  all  under  my  care.  I  had  to  answer  all  the  bells,  except  in  the 
bedrooms.    There  were  other  little  odds  and  ends  sometimes  to  do — " 

"But  your  regular  duties  were  the  duties  you  have  just  men- 
tioned ?" 

"Yes,  ma'am." 

"  How  long  ago  is  it  since  you  lived  in  service  as  parlor-maid  ?" 

"A  little  better  than  two  years,  ma'am." 

"I  suppose  you  have  not  forgotten  how  to  wait  at  table,  and 
clean  plate,  and  the  rest  of  it,  in  that  time  ?" 

At  this  question  Louisa's  attention,  which  had  been  wandering 
more  and  more  during  the  progress  of  Magdalen's  inquiries,  wan- 
dered away  altogether.  Her  gathering  anxieties  got  the  better  of 
her  discretion,  and  even  of  her  timidity.  Instead  of  answering  her 
mistress,  she  suddenly  and  confusedly  ventured  on  a  question  of 
her  own. 

'•I  beg  your  pardon,  ma'am,"  she  said.  "Did  you  mean  me  to 
offer  for  the  parlor-maid's  place  at  St.  Crux  ?" 

"  You  ?"  replied  Magdalen.  "  Certainly  not !  Have  you  forgot- 
ten what  I  said  to  you  in  this  room  before  I  went  out  ?  .  I  mean  you 
to  be  married,  and  to  go  to  Australia  with  your  husband  and  your 
child.  You  have  not  waited  as  I  told  you,  to  hear  me  explain  my- 
self. You  have  drawn  your  own  conclusions,  and  you  have  drawn 
them  wrong.  I  asked  a  question  just  now,  which  you  have  not  an- 
swered— I  asked  if  you  had  forgotten  your  parlor-maid's  duties  ?" 

"  Oh  no,  ma'am !"  Louisa  had  replied  rather  unwillingly  thus  far. 
She  answered  readily  and  confidently  now. 

"  Could  you  teach  the  duties  to  another  servant  ?"  asked  Magdalen. 

"  Yes,  ma'am — easily,  if  she  was  quick  and  attentive." 

"  Could  you  teach  the  duties  to  Me  ?" 

Louisa  started,  and  changed  color.  "  You,  ma'am  !"  she  exclaim- 
ed, half  in  incredulity,  half  in  alarm. 

"  Yes,"  said  Magdalen. .  "  Could  you  qualify  me  to  take  the  par- 
lor-maid's place  at  St.  Crux  ?" 

Plain  as  those  words  were,  the  bewilderment  which  they  produced 
in  Louisa's  mind  seemed  to  render  her  incapable  of  comprehending 
her  mistress's  proposal.     "  You,  ma'am  !"  she  repeated,  vacantly. 

"  I  shall  perhaps  help  you  to  understand  this  extraordinary  project 


NO    NAME.  509 

of  mine,"  said  Magdalen,  "if  I  tell  you  plainly  what  the  object  of  it 
is.  Do  you  remember  what  I  said  to  you  about  Mr.  Vanstone's  will 
when  you  came  here  from  Scotland  to  join  me  ?" 

"Yes,  ma'am.  You  told  me  you  had  been  left  out  of  the  will 
altogether.  I'm  sure  my  fellow-servant  would  never  have  been  one 
of  the  witnesses  if  she  had  known — " 

"Never  mind  that  now.  I  don't  blame  your  fellow-servant  —  I 
blame  nobody  but  Mrs.  Lecount.  Let  me  go  on  with  what  I  was 
saying.  It  is  not  at  all  certain  that  Mrs.  Lecount  can  do  me  the 
mischief  which  Mrs.  Lecount  intended.  There  is  a  chance  that  my 
lawyer,  Mr.  Loscombe,  maybe  able  to  gain  me  what  is  fairly  my  due, 
in  spite  of  the  will.  The  chance  turns  on  my  discovering  a  let- 
ter which  Mr.  Loscombe  believes,  and  which  I  believe,  to  be  kept 
privately  in  Admiral  Bartram's  possession.  I  have  not  the  least 
hope  of  getting  at  that  letter  if  I  make  the  attempt  in  my  own  per- 
son. Mrs.  Lecount  has  poisoned  the  admiral's  mind  against  me, 
and  Mr.  Vanstone  has  given  him  a  secret  to  keep  from  me.  If  I 
wrote  to  him,  he  would  not  answer  my  letter.  If  I  went  to  his 
house,  the  door  would  be  closed  in  my  face.  I  must  find  my  way 
into  St.  Crux  as  a  stranger — I  must  be  in  a  position  to  look  about 
the  house,  unsuspected — I  must  be  there  with  plenty  of  time  on  my 
hands.  All  the  circumstances  are  in  my  favor,  if  I  am  received  into 
the  house  as  a  servant;  and  as  a  servant  I  mean  to  go." 

"  But  you  are  a  lady,  ma'am,"  objected  Louisa,  in  the  greatest  per- 
plexity.    "  The  servants  at  St.  Crux  would  find  you  out." 

"  I  am  not  at  all  afraid  of  their  finding  me  out,"  said  Magdalen. 
"  I  know  how  to  disguise  myself  in  other  people's  characters  more 
cleverly  than  you  suppose.  Leave  me  to  face  the  chances  of  dis- 
covery— that  is  my  risk.  Let  us  talk  of  nothing  now  but  what  con- 
cerns you.  Don't  decide  yet  whether  you  will,  or  will  not,  give  me 
the  help  I  want.  Wait,  and  hear  first  what  the  help  is.  You  are 
quick  and  clever  at  your  needle.  Can  you  make  me  the  sort  of 
gown  which  it  is  proper  for  a  servant  to  wear — and  can  you  alter 
one  of  my  best  silk  dresses  so  as  to  make  it  fit  yourself— in  a  week's 
time  ?" 

"  I  think  I  could  get  them  done  in  a  week,  ma'am.  But  why  am 
I  to  wear —  ?" 

"  Wait  a  little,  and  you  will  see.  I  shall  give  the  landlady  her 
week's  notice  to-morrow.  In  the  interval,  while  you  are  making 
the  dresses,  I  can  be  learning  the  parlor-maid's  duties.  When  the 
house-servant  here  has  brought  up  the  dinner,  and  when  you  and  I 
are  alone  in  the  room — instead  of  your  waiting  on  me,  as  usual,  I 
will  wait  on  you.  (I  am  quite  serious ;  don't  interrupt  me  !)  What- 
ever I  can  learn  besides,  without  hindering  you,  I  will  practice  care- 
fully at  every  opportunity.     When  the  week  is  over,  and  the  dresses 


510  NO    NAME. 

are  done,  we  Trill  leave  this  place,  and  go  into  other  lodgings — you 
as  the  mistress,  and  I  as  the  maid." 

"  I  should  be  found  out,  ma'am,"  interposed  Louisa,  trembling  at 
the  prospect  before  her.     "  I  am  not  a  lady." 

"And  I  am,"  said  Magdalen,  bitterly.  "Shall  I  tell  you  what  a 
lady  is  ?  A  lady  is  a  woman  who  wears  a  silk  gown,  and  has  a 
sense  of  her  own  importance.  I  shall  put  the  gown  on  your  b'  'k, 
and  the  sense  in  your  head.  You  speak  good  English ;  you  are  a  It- 
urally  quiet  and  self-restrained ;  if  you  can  only  conquer  your  t.  :1 
ity,  I  have  not  the  least  fear  of  you.  There  will  be  time  enough 
in  the  new  lodging  for  you  to  practice  your  character,  and  for  me 
to  practice  mine.  There  will  be  time  enough  to  make  some  more 
dresses  —  another  gown  for  me,  and  your  wedding-dress  (which  I 
mean  to  give  you)  for  yourself.  I  shall  have  the  newspaper  sent 
every  day.  When  the  advertisement  appears,  I  shall  answer  it — in 
any  name  I  can  take  on  the  spur  of  the  moment ;  in  your  name,  if 
you  like  to  lend  it  to  me ;  and  when  the  housekeeper  asks  me  for 
my  character,  I  shall  refer  her  to  you.  She  will  see  you  in  the  posi- 
tion of  mistress,  and  me  in  the  position  of  maid — no  suspicion  can 
possibly  enter  her  mind,  unless  you  put  it  there.  If  you  only  have 
the  courage  to  follow  my  instructions,  and  to  say  what  I  shall  tell 
you  to  say,  the  interview  will  be  over  in  ten  minutes." 

"  You  frighten  me,  ma'am,"  said  Louisa,  still  trembling.  "  You 
take  my  breath  away  with  surprise.  Courage  !  Where  shall  I  find 
courage  ?" 

"Where  I  keep  it  for  you,"  said  Magdalen  —  "in  the  passage- 
money  to  Australia.  Look  at  the  new  prospect  which  gives  you  a 
husband,  and  restores  you  to  your  child — and  you  will  find  your 
courage  there." 

Louisa's  sad  face  brightened ;  Louisa's  faint  heart  beat  quick.  A 
spark  of  her  mistress's  spirit  flew  up  into  her  eyes  as  she  thought  of 
the  golden  future. 

"  If  you  accept  my  proposal,"  pursued  Magdalen,  "  you  can  be 
asked  in  church  at  once,  if  you  like.  I  promise  you  the  money  on 
the  day  when  the  advertisement  appears  in  the  newsjjaper.  The 
risk  of  the  housekeeper's  rejecting  me  is  my  risk — not  yours.  My 
good  looks  are  sadly  gone  off,  I  know.  But  I  think  I  can  still  hold 
my  place  against  the  other  servants — I  think  I  can  stiH  look  the  par- 
lor-maid whom  Admiral  Bartram  wants.  There  is  nothing  for  you 
to  fear  in  this  matter ;  I  should  not  have  mentioned  it  if  there  had 
been.  The  only  danger  is  the  danger  of  my  being  discovered  at  St. 
Crux,  and  that  falls  entirely  on  me.  By  the  time  I  am  in  the  ad- 
miral's house  you  will  be  married,  and  the  ship  will  be  taking  you 
to  your  new  life." 

Louisa's  face,  now  brightening  with  hope,  now  clouding  again 
with  fear,  showed  plain  signs  of  the  struggle  which  it  cost  her  to 


NO    NAME.  511 

decide.  She  tried  to  gain  time;  she  attempted  confusedly  to  speak 
a  few  words  of  gratitude ;  but  her  mistress  silenced  her. 

"  You  owe  me  no  thanks,1'  said  Magdalen.  "  I  tell  you  again,  wo 
are  only  helping  each  other.  I  have  very  little  money,  but  it  is 
enough  for  your  purpose,  and  I  give  it  you  freely.  I  have  led  a 
wretched  life ;  I  have  made  others  wretched  about  me.  I  can't 
even  make  you  happy,  except  by  tempting  you  to  a  new  deceit. 
There  !  there !  it's  not  your  fault.  Worse  women  than  you  are  will 
help  me,  if  you  refuse.  Decide  as  you  like,  but  don't  be  afraid  of 
taking  the  money.     If  I  succeed,  I  shall  not  want  it.     If  I  fail — " 

She  stopped,  rose  abruptly  from  her  chair,  and  hid  her  face  from 
Louisa  by  walking  away  to  the  fire-place. 

"  If  I  fail,"  she  resumed,  warming  her  foot  carelessly  at  the  fender, 
"  all  the  money  in  the  world  will  be  of  no  use  to  me.  Never  mind 
why — never  mind  Me — think  of  yourself.  I  won't  take  advantage  of 
the  confession  you  have  made  to  me ;  I  won't  influence  you  against 
your  will.  Do  as  you  yourself  think  best.  But  remember  one  thing 
— my  mind  is  made  up ;  nothing  you  can  say  or  do  will  change  it." 

Her  sudden  removal  from  the  table,  the  altered  tones  of  her  voice 
as  she  spoke  the  last  words,  appeared  to  renew  Louisa's  hesitation. 
She  clasped  her  hands  together  in  her  lap,  and  wrung  them  hard. 
"  This  has  come  on  me  very  suddenly,  ma'am,"  said  the  girl.  "  I 
am  sorely  tempted  to  say  Yes ;  and  yet  I'm  almost  afraid — " 

"Take  the  night  to  consider  it,"  interposed  Magdalen,  keeping 
her  face  persistently  turned  toward  the  fire ;  "  and  tell  me  what  you 
have  decided  to  do,  when  you  come  into  my  room  to-morrow  morn- 
ing. I  shall  want  no  help  to-night — I  can  undress  myself.  You  are 
not  so  strong  as  I  am ;  you  are  tired,  I  dare  say.  Don't  sit  up  on 
my  account.     Good-night,  Louisa,  and  pleasant  dreams  !" 

Her  voice  sank  lower  and  lower  as  she  spoke  those  kind  words. 
She  sighed  heavily,  and,  leaning  her  arm  on  the  mantel-piece,  laid 
her  head  on  it  with  a  reckless  weariness  miserable  to  see.  Louisa 
had  not  left  the  room,  as  she  supposed — Louisa  came  softly  to  her 
side,  and  kissed  her  hand.  Magdalen  started  ;  but  she  made  no  at- 
tempt, this  time,  to  draw  her  hand  away.  The  sense  of  her  own 
horrible  isolation  subdued  her,  at  the  touch  of  the  servant's  lips. 
Her  proud  heart  melted  ;  her  eyes  filled  with  burning  tears.  "  Don't 
distress  me !"  she  said,  faintly.  "  The  time  for  kindness  has  gone 
by  ;  it  only  overpowers  me  now.     Good-night  i" 

When  the  morning  came,  the  affirmative  answer  which  Magdalen 
had  anticipated  was  the  answer  given. 

On  that  day  the  landlady  received  her  week's  notice  to  quit,  and 
Louisa's  needle  flew  fast  through  the  stitches  of  the  parlor-maid's 
dress. 

THE   END   OF   THE   SIXTH   SCENE. 


512  NU    -NAME. 


From  Miss  Garth  to  Mr.  Pendril. 

"  Westraorelaud  House,  January  3d,  1848. 

"Dear  Mr.  Pendril, — I  write,  as  you  kindly  requested,  to  re« 
port  how  Norah  is  going  on,  and  to  tell  you  what  changes  I  see  for 
the  better  in  the  state  of  her  mind  on  the  subject  of  her  sister. 

"  I  can  not  say  that  she  is  becoming  resigned  to  Magdalen's  con- 
tinued silence — I  know  her  faithful  nature  too  well  to  say  it.  I  can 
only  tell  you  that  she  is  beginning  to  find  rehef  from  the  heavy 
pressure  of  sorrow  and  suspense  in  new  thoughts  and  new  hopes.  I 
doubt  if  she  has  yet  realized  this  in  her  own  mind  ;  but  I  see  the  re- 
sult, although  she  is  not  conscious  of  it  herself.  I  see  her  heart 
opening  to  the  consolation  of  another  interest  and  another  love. 
She  has  not  said  a  word  to  me  on  the  subject,  nor  have  I  said  a 
word  to  her.  But  as  certainly  as  I  know  that  Mr.  George  Bartram's 
visits  have  lately  grown  more  and  more  frequent  to  the  family  at 
Portland  Place — so  certainly  I  can  assure  you  that  Norah  is  finding 
a  relief  under  her  suspense,  which  is  not  of  my  bringing,  and  a  hope 
in  the  future,  which  I  have  not  taught  her  to  feel. 

"  It  is  needless  for  me  to  say  that  I  tell  you  this  in  the  strictest 
confidence.  God  knows  whether  the  happy  prospect  which  seems 
to  me  to  be  just  dawning  will  grow  brighter  or  not  as  time  goes  on. 
The  oftener  I  see  Mr.  George  Bartram — and  he  has  called  on  me 
more  than  once — the  stronger  my  liking  for  him  grows.  To  my 
poor  judgment  he  seems  to  be  a  gentleman  in  the  highest  and  truest 
sense  of  the  word.  If  I  could  live  to  see  Norah  Ms  wife,  I  should 
almost  feel  that  I  had  lived  long  enough.  But  who  can  discern  the 
future  ?     We  have  suffered  so  much  that  I  am  afraid  to  hope. 

"  Have  you  heard  any  thing  of  Magdalen  ?     I  don't  know  why  or 
how  it  is;  but  since  I  have  known  of  her  husband's  death,  my  old 
tenderness  for  her  seems  to  cling  to  me  more  obstinately  than  ever. 
"  Always  yours  truly,  Harriet  Garth." 

II. 

From  Mr.  Pendril  to  Miss  Garth. 

"Serle  Street,  January  4th,  1848. 

"  Dear  Miss  Garth,— Of  Mrs.  Noel  Vanstone  herself  I  have  heard 


BETWEEN  THE  SCENES. 

PROGRESS  OF  THE  STORY  THROUGH  THE  POST. 


NO    NAME.  513 

nothing.  But  I  have  learned,  since  I  saw  you,  that  the  report  of 
the  position  in  which  she  is  left  by  the  death  of  her  husband  may 
bfe  depended  upon  as  the  truth.  No  legacy  of  any  kind  is  bequeath- 
ed to  her.     Her  name  is  not  once  mentioned  in  her  husband's  will. 

"Knowing  what  we  know,  it  is  not  to  be  concealed  that  this  cir- 
cumstance threatens  us  with  more  embarrassment,  and  perhaps  with 
more  distress.  Mrs.  Noel  Vanstone  is  not  the  woman  to  submit, 
without  a  desperate  resistance,  to  the  total  overthrow  of  all  her 
schemes  and  all  her  hopes.  The  mere  fact  that  nothing  whatever 
has  been  heard  of  her  since  her  husband's  death  is  suggestive  to  my 
mind  of  serious  mischief  to  come.  In  her  situation,  and  with  her 
temper,  the  quieter  she  is  now,  the  more  inveterately  I,  for  one,  dis- 
trust her  in  the  future.  It  is  impossible  to  say  to  what  violent 
measures  her  present  extremity  may  not  drive  her.  It  is  impossible 
to  feel  sure  that  she  may  not  be  the  cause  of  some  public  scandal 
this  time,  which  may  affect  her  innocent  sister  as  well  as  herself. 

"I  know  you  will  not  misinterpret  the  motive  which  has  led  me 
to  write  these  lines ;  I  know  you  will  not  think  that  I  am  inconsid- 
erate enough  to  cause  you  unnecessary  alarm.  My  sincere  anxiety 
to  see  that  happy  prospect  realized  to  which  your  letter  alludes  has 
caused  me  to  write  far  less  reservedly  than  I  might  otherwise  have 
written.  I  strongly  urge  you  to  use  your  influence,  on  every  occa- 
sion when  you  can  fairly  exert  it,  to  strengthen  that  growing  attach- 
ment, and  to  place  it  beyond  the  reach  of  any  coming  disasters, 
while  you  have  the  opportunity  of  doing  so.  When  I  tell  you  that 
the  fortune  of  which  Mrs.  Noel  Vanstone  has  been  deprived  is  en- 
tirely bequeathed  to  Admiral  Bartram;  and  when  I  add  that  Mr. 
George  Bartram  is  generally  understood  to  be  his  uncle's  heir — you 
will,  I  think,  acknowledge  that  I  am  not  warning  you  without  a 
cause.     Yours  most  truly,  William  Pendrxl." 

m. 

From  Admiral  Bartram  to  Mrs.  Drake  (housekeeper  at  St.  Crux). 

"  St.  Crnx,  January  10th,  1848. 

"  Mrs.  Drake, — I  have  received  your  letter  from  London,  stating 
that  you  have  found  me  a  new  parlor-maid  at  last,  and  that  the  girl 
is  ready  to  return  with  you  to  St.  Crux  when  your  other  errands  in 
town  allow  you  to  come  back. 

"This  arrangement  must  be  altered  immediately,  for  a  reason 
which  I  am  heartily  sorry  to  have  to  write. 

"The  illness  of  my  niece,  Mrs.  Girdlestone — which  appeared  to  be 
so  slight  as  to  alarm  none  of  us,  doctors  included — has  ended  fatal- 
ly. I  received  this  morning  the  shocking  news  of  her  death.  Her 
husband  is  said  to  be  quite  frantic  with  grief.  Mr.  George  has  al- 
ready gone  to  his  brother-in-law's,  to  superintend  the  last  melan- 


514  NO   NAME. 

choly  duties,  and  I  must  follow  him  before  the  funeral  takes  place. 
We  propose  to  take  Mr.  Girdlestone  away  afterward,  and  to  try  the 
effect  on  him  of  change  of  place  and  new  scenes.  Under  these  sad 
circumstances,  I  may  be  absent  from  St.  Crux  a  month  or  six  weeks 
at  least ;  the  house  will  be  shut  up,  and  tlfe  new  servant  will  not  be 
wanted  until  my  return. 

"  You  will  therefore  tell  the  girl,  on  receiving  this  letter,  that  a 
death  in  the  family  has  caused  a  temporary  change  in  our  arrange- 
ments. If  she  is  willing  to  wait,  you  may  safely  engage  her  to  come 
here  in  six  weeks1  time ;  I  shall  be  back  then,  if  Mr.  George  is  not. 
If  she  refuses,  pay  her  what  compensation  is  right,  and  so  have 
done  with  her.     Yours,  Arthur  Bartram." 

IV. 

From  Mrs.  Drake  to  Admiral  Bartram. 

"January  11th. 
"  Honored  Sir, — I  hope  to  get  my  errands  done,  and  to  return 
to  St.  Crux  to-morrow,  but  write  to  save  you  anxiety,  in  case  of 
delay. 

"The  young  woman  whom  I  have  engaged  (Louisa  by  name)  is 
willing  to  wait  your  time ;  and  her  present  mistress,  taking  an  in- 
terest in  her  welfare,  will  provide  for  her  during  the  interval.  She 
understands  that  she  is  to  enter  on  her  new  service  in- six  weeks 
from  the  present  date — namely,  on  the  twenty-fifth  of  February 
next. 

"  Begging  you  will  accept  my  respectful  sympathy  under  the  sad 
bereavement  which  has  befallen  the  family, 

"  I  remain,  honored  sir,  your  humble  servant, 

"Sophia  Drake." 


mo  wamj;.  515 


THE  SEVENTH  SCENE. 

ST.  CRUX-IN-THE-MARSH. 


CHAPTER  I. 

This  is  where  you  arc  to  sleep.  Put  yourself  tidy,  and  then  come 
down  again  to  my  room.  The  admiral  has  returned,  and  you  will 
have  to  begin  by  waiting  on  him  at  dinner  to-day." 

With  those  words,  Mrs.  Drake,  the  housekeeper,  closed  the  door ; 
and  the  new  parlor-maid  was  left  alone  in  her  bed-chamber  at  St. 
Crux. 

That  day  was  the  eventful  twenty-fifth  of  February.  In  barely 
four  months  from  the  time  when  Mrs.  Lecount  had  placed  her  mas- 
ter's private  Instructions  in  his  Executor's  hands,  the  one  combina- 
tion of  circumstances  against  which  it  had  been  her  first  and  fore- 
most object  to  provide  was  exactly  the  combination  which  had  now 
taken  place.  Mr.  Noel  Vanstone's  widow  and  Admiral  Bartram's 
Secret  Trust  were  together  in  the  same  house. 

Thus  far,  events  had  declared  themselves  without  an  exception  in 
Magdalen's  favor.  Thus  far,  the  path  which  had  led  her  to  St.  Crux 
had  been  a  path  without  an  obstacle.  Louisa,  whose  name  she  had 
now  taken,  had  sailed  three  days  since  for  Australia,  with  her  hus- 
band and  her  child ;  she  was  the  only  living  creature  whom  Magda- 
len had  trusted  with  her  secret,  and  she  was  by  this  time  out  of 
sight  of  the  English  land.  The  girl  had  been  careful,  reliable,  and 
faithfully  devoted  to  her  mistress's  interests  to  the  last.  She  had 
passed  the  ordeal  of  her  interview  with  the  housekeeper,  and  had 
forgotten  none  of  the  instructions  by  which  she  had  been  prepared 
to  meet  it.  She  had  herself  proposed  to  turn  the  six  weeks'  delay, 
caused  by  the  death  in  the  admiral's  family,  to  good  account,  by 
continuing  the  all-important  practice  of  those  domestic  lessons,  on 
the  perfect  acquirement  of  which  her  mistress's  daring  strategem 
depended  for  its  success.  Thanks  to  the  time  thus  gained,  when 
Louisa's  marriage  was  over,  and  the  day  of  parting  had  come,  Mag- 
dalen had  learned  and  mastered,  in  the  nicest  detail,  every  thing 
that  her  former  servant  could  teach  her.  On  the  day  when  she 
passed  the  doors  of  St.  Crux  she  entered  on  her  desperate  venture, 
strong  in  the  ready  presence  of  mind  under  emergencies  which  her 
later  life  had  taught  her,  stronger  still  in  the  trained  capacity  that 


516  NO   NAME. 

she  possessed  for  the  assumption  of  a  character  not  her  own,  strong- 
est of  all  in  her  two  months'  daily  familiarity  with  the  practical  du- 
ties of  the  position  which  she  had  undertaken  to  fill. 

As  soon  as  Mrs.  Drake's  departure  had  left  her  alone,  she  unpack- 
ed her  box,  and  dressed  herself  for  the  evening. 

She  put  on  a  lavender-colored  stuff-gown — half-mourning  for  Mrs. 
Girdlestone;  ordered  for  all  the  servants,  under  the  admiral's  in- 
structions— a  white  muslin  apron,  and  a  neat  white  cap  and  collar, 
with  ribbons  to  match  the  gown.  In  this  servant's  costume — in  the 
plain  gown  fastening  high  round  her  neck,  in  the  neat  little  white 
cap  at  the  back  of  her  head— in  this  simple  dress,  to  the  eyes  of  all 
men,  not  linen-drapers,  at  once  the  most  modest  and  the  most  allur- 
ing that  a  woman  can  wear,  the  sad  changes  which  mental  suffering 
had  wrought  in  her  beauty  almost  disappeared  from  view.  In  the 
evening  costume  of  a  lady,  with  her  bosom  uncovered,  with  her  fig- 
ure armed,  rather  than  dressed,  in  unpliable  silk,  the  admiral  might 
have  passed  her  by  without  notice  in  his  own  drawing-room.  In 
the  evening  costume  of  a  servant,  no  admirer  of  beauty  could  have 
looked  at  her  once  and  not  have  turned  again  to  look  at  her  for  the 
second  time. 

Descending  the  stairs,  on  her  way  to  the  housekeeper'^  room,  she 
passed  by  the  entrances  to  two  long  stone  corridors,  with  rows  of 
doors  opening  on  them ;  one  corridor  situated  on  the  second,  and 
one  on  the  first  floor  of  the  house.  "  Many  rooms  !"  she  thought,  as 
she  looked  at  the  doors.  "  Weary  work  searching  here  for  what  I 
have  come  to  find  !" 

On  reaching  the  ground-floor  she  was  met  by  a  weather-beaten 
old  man,  who  stopped  and  stared  at  her  with  an  appearance  of  great 
interest.  He  was  the  same  old  man  whom  Captain  Wragge  had 
seen  in  the  backyard  at  St.  Crux,  at  work  on  the  model  of  a  ship. 
All  round  the  neighborhood  he  was  known,  far  and  wide,  as  "  the 
admiral's  coxswain."  His  name  was  Mazey.  Sixty  years  had  writ- 
ten their  story  of  hard  work  at  sea,  and  hard  drinking  on  shore,  on 
the  veteran's  grim  and  wrinkled  face.  Sixty  years  had  proved  his 
fidelity,  and  had  brought  his  battered  old  carcass,  at  the  end  of  the 
voyage,  into  port  in  his  master's  house. 

Seeing  no  one  else  of  whom  she  could  inquire,  Magdalen  requested 
the  old  man  to  show  her  the  way  that  led  to  the  housekeeper's  room. 

"  I'll  show  you,  my  dear,"  said  old  Mazey,  speaking  in  the  high 
and  hollow  voice  peculiar  to  the  deaf.  "  You're  the  new  maid — eh? 
And  a  fine-grown  girl,  too  !  His  honor,  the  admiral,  likes  a  parlor- 
maid with  a  clean  run  fore  and  aft.    You'll  do,  my  dear — you'll  do." 

"  You  must  not  mind  what  Mr.  Mazey  says  to  you,"  remarked  the 
housekeeper,  opening  her  door  as  the  old  sailor  expressed  his  ap- 


NO  NAME.  517 

proval  of  Magdalen  in  these  terms.  "  ITe  is  privileged  to  t alk  as  lie 
pleases;  and  lie  is  very  tiresome  and  slovenly  in  his  habits;  but  he 
means  no  harm." 

With  that  apology  for  the  veteran,  Mrs.  Drake  led  Magdalen  first 
to  the  pantry,  and  next  to  the  linen-room,  installing  her,  with  all 
due  formality,  in  her  own  domestic  dominions.  This  ceremony  com- 
pleted, the  new  parlor-maid  was  taken  up  stairs,  and  was  shown  the 
dining-room,  which  opened  out  of  the  corridor  on  the  first  floor. 
Here  she  was  directed  to  lay  the  cloth,  and  to  prepare  the  table  for 
one  person  only — Mr.  George  Bartram  not  having  returned  with  his 
uncle  to  St.  Crux.  Mrs.  Drake's  sharp  eyes  watched  Magdalen  at- 
tentively as  she  performed  this  introductory  duty  ;  and  Mrs.  Drake's 
private  convictions,  when  the  table  was  spread,  forced  her  to  ac- 
knowledge, so  far,  that  the  new  servant  thoroughly  understood  her 
work. 

An  hour  later  the  soup-tureen  was  placed  on  the  table  ;  and  Mag- 
dalen stood  alone  behind  the  admiral's  empty  chair,  waiting  her 
master's  first  inspection  of  her  when  he  entered  the  dining-room. 

A  large  bell  rang  in  the  lower  regions — quick,  shambling  foot- 
steps pattered  on  the  stone  corridor  outside— the  door  opened  sud- 
denly— and  a  tall  lean  yellow  old  man,  sharp  as  to  his  eyes,  shrewd 
as  to  his  lips,  fussily  restless  as  to  all  his  movements,  entered  the 
room,  with  two  huge  Labrador  dogs  at  his  heels,  and  took  his  seat 
in  a  violent  hurry.  The  dogs  followed  him,  and  placed  themselves, 
with  the  utmost  gravity  and  composure,  one  on  each  side  of  his 
chair.  This  was  Admiral  Bartram,  and  these  were  the  companions 
of  his  solitary  meal. 

"Ay !  ay !  ay  !  here's  the  new  parlor-maid,  to  be  sure  !"  he  began, 
looking  sharply,  but  not  at  all  unkindly,  at  Magdalen.  "What's 
your  name,  my  good  girl  ?  Louisa,  is  it  ?  I  shall  call  you  Lucy,  if 
you  don't  mind.  Take  off  the  cover,  my  dear — I'm  a  minute  or  two 
late  to-day.  Don't  be  unpunctual  to-morrow  on  that  account;  I 
am  as  regular  as  clock-work  generally.  How  are  you  after  your 
journey  ?  Did  my  spring-cart  bump  you  about  much  in  bringing 
you  from  the  station  ?  Capital  soup  this — hot  as  fire — reminds  me 
of  the  soup  we  used  to  have  in  the  West  Indies  in  the  year  Three. 
Have  you  got  your  half-mourning  on  ?  Stand  there,  and  let  me  see. 
Ah  yes,  very  neat,  and  nice,  and  tidy.  Poor  Mrs.  Girdlestone !  Oh 
dear,  dear,  dear,  poor  Mrs.  Girdlestone  !  You're  not  afraid  of  dogs, 
are  you,  Lucy  ?  Eh  ?  What  ?  You  like  dogs  ?  That's  right !  Al- 
ways be  kind  to  dumb  animals.  These  two  dogs  dine  with  me  ev- 
ery day,  except  when  there's  company.  The  dog  with  the  black 
nose  is  Brutus,  and  the  dog  with  the  white  nose  is  Cassius.  Did 
you  ever  hear  who  Brutus  and  Cassius  were  ?  Ancient  Romans  ? 
That's  right — good  girl.     Mind  your  book  and  your  needle,  and 


518  NO   NAME. 

we'll  get  you  a  good  husband  one  of  these  days.  Take  away  the 
soup,  my  dear,  take  away  the  soup  !" 

This  was  the  man  whose  secret  it  was  now  the  one  interest  of 
Magdalen's  life  to  surprise  !  This  was  the  man  whose  name  had 
supplanted  hers  in  Noel  Vanstone's  will ! 

The  fish  and  the  roast  meat  followed ;  and  the  admiral's  talk 
rambled  on — now  in  soliloquy,  now  addressed  to  the  parlor-maid, 
and  now  directed  to  the  dogs — as  familiarly  and  as  disconnectedly 
as  ever.  Magdalen  observed  with  some  surprise  that  the  companions 
of  the  admiral's  dinner  had,  thus  far,  received  no  scraps  from  their 
master's  plate.  The  two  magnificent  brutes  sat  squatted  on  their 
haunches,  with  their  great  heads  over  the  table,  watching  the  prog- 
ress of  the  meal  with  the  profoundest  attention,  but  apparently  ex- 
pecting no  share  in  it.  The  roast  meat  was  removed,  the  admiral's 
plate  was  changed,  and  Magdalen  took  the  silver  covers  off  the  two 
made-dishes  on  either  side  of  the  table.  As  she  handed  the  first 
of  the  savory  dishes  to  her  master,  the  dogs  suddenly  exhibited  a 
breathless  personal  interest  in  the  proceedings.  Brutus  gluttonous- 
ly watered  at  the  mouth  ;  and  the  tongue  of  Cassius,  protruding  in 
unutterable  expectation,  smoked  again  between  his  enormous  jaws. 

The  admiral  helped  himself  liberally  from  the  dish  ;  sent  Magda- 
len to  the  side-table  to  get  him  some  bread  ;  and,  when. he  thought 
her  eye  was  off  him,  furtively  tumbled  the  whole  contents  of  his 
plate  into  Brutus's  mouth.  Cassius  whined  faintly  as  his  fortunate 
comrade  swallowed  the  savory  mess  at  a  gulp.  "  Hush  !  you  fool," 
whispered  the  admiral.     "  Your  turn  next !" 

Magdalen  presented  the  second  dish.  Once  more  the  old  gentle- 
man helped  himself  largely — once  more  he  sent  her  away  to  the 
side  table — once  more  he  tumbled  the  entire  contents  of  the  plate 
down  the  dog's  throat,  selecting  Cassius  this  time,  as  became  a  con- 
siderate master  and  an  impartial  man.  When  the  next  course  fol- 
lowed— consisting  of  a  plain  pudding  and  an  unwholesome  "  cream  " 
— Magdalen's  suspicion  of  the  function  of  the  dogs  at  the  dinner- 
table  was  confirmed.  While  the  master  took  the  simple  pudding, 
the  dogs  swallowed  the  elaborate  cream.  The  admiral  was  plainly 
afraid  of  offending  his  cook  on  the  one  hand,  and  of  offending  his 
digestion  on  the  other — and  Brutus  and  Cassius  were  the  two  train- 
ed accomplices  who  regularly  helped  him  every  day  off  the  horns 
of  his  dilemma.  "  Very  good  !  very  good  !"  said  the  old  gentleman, 
with  the  most  transparent  duplicity.  "  Tell  the  cook,  my  dear,  a 
capital  cream  !" 

Having  placed  the  wine  and  dessert  on  the  table,  Magdalen  was 
about  to  withdraw.  Before  she  could  leave  the  room,  her  master 
called  her  back. 

"  Stop,  stop  I"  said  the  admiral ;  "  you  don't  know  the  ways  of 


NO  NAME.  519 

the  house  yet,  Lucy.  Put  another  wine  -  glass  here,  at  my  right 
hand — the  largest  you  can  find,  nay  dear.  I've  got  a  third  dog,  who 
comes  in  at  dessert — a  drunken  old  sea-dog  who  has  followed  my 
fortunes,  afloat  and  ashore,  for  fifty  years  and  more.  Yes,  yes,  that's 
the  sort  of  glass  we  want.  You're  a  good  girl — you're  a  neat,  handy 
girl.     Steady,  my  dear !  there's  nothing  to  be  frightened  at !" 

A  sudden  thump  on  the  outside  of  the  door,  followed  by  one 
mighty  bark  from  each  of  the  dogs,  had  made  Magdalen  start. 
"  Come  in !"  shouted  the  admiral.  The  door  opened ;  the  tails  of 
Brutus  and  Cassius  cheerfully  thumped  the  floor ;  and  old  Mazey 
marched  straight  up  to  the  right-hand  side  of  his  master's  chair. 
The  veteran  stood  there,  with  his  legs  wide  apart  and  his  balance 
carefully  adjusted,  as  if  the  dining-room  had  been  a  cabin,  and  the 
house  a  ship  pitching  in  a  sea-way. 

The  admiral  filled  the  large  glass  with  port,  filled  his  own  glass 
with  claret,  and  raised  it  to  his  lips. 

"  God  bless  the  Queen,  Mazey,"  said  the  admiral. 

"  God  bless  the  Queen,  your  honor,"  said  old  Mazey,  swallowing 
his  port,  as  the  dogs  swallowed  the  made-dishes,  at  a  gulp. 

"  How's  the  wind,  Mazey  ?" 

"  West  and  by  Noathe,  your  honor." 

"  Any  report  to-night,  Mazey  ?" 

"  No  report,  your  honor." 

"  Good-evening,  Mazey." 

"  Good-evening,  your  honor." 

The  after-dinner  ceremony  thus  completed,  old  Mazey  made  his 
bow,  and  walked  out  of  the  room  again.  Brutus  and  Cassius 
stretched  themselves  on  the  rug  to  digest  mushrooms  and  made 
gravies  in  the  lubricating  heat  of  the  fire.  "  For  what  we  have  re- 
ceived, the  Lord  make  us  truly  thankful,"  said  the  admiral.  "  Go 
down  stairs,  my  good  girl,  and  get  your  supper.  A  light  meal, 
Lucy,  if  you  take  my  advice — a  light  meal,  or  you  will  have  the 
nightmare.  Early  to  bed,  my  dear,  and  early  to  rise,  makes  a  par- 
lor-maid healthy  and  wealthy  and  wise.  That's  the  wisdom  of  your 
ancestors — you  mustn't  laugh  at  it.  Good-night."  In  those  words 
Magdalen  was  dismissed ;  and  so  her  first  day's  experience  of  Ad- 
miral Bartram  came  to  an  end. 

After  breakfast  the  next  morning,  the  admiral's  directions  to  the 
new  parlor-maid  included  among  them  one  particular  order  which, 
in  Magdalen's  situation,  it  was  especially  her  interest  to  receive.  In 
the  old  gentleman's  absence  from  home  that  day,  on  local  business 
which  took  him  to  Ossory,  she  was  directed  to  make  herself  ac- 
quainted with  the  whole  inhabited  quarter  of  the  house,  and  to 
learn  the  positions  of  the  various  rooms,  so  as  to  know  where  the 


520  NO    NAME. 

bells  called  her  when  the  hells  rang.  Mrs.  Drake  was  charged  with 
the  duty  qf  superintending  the  voyage  pf  domestic  discovery,  unless 
she  happened  to  lie  otherwise  engaged — in  which  case  any  one  of 
the  interior  servants  would  be  equally  competent  to  act  as  Mag- 
dalen's guide. 

At  noon  the  admiral  left  for  Ossory,  and  Magdalen  presented  her- 
self hi  Mrs.  Drake's  room,  to  be  shown  over  the  house.  Mrs.  Drake 
happened  to  be  otherwise  engaged,  and  referred  her  to  the  head 
house-maid.  The  head  house-maid  happened  on  that  particular 
morning  to  be  in  the  same  condition  as  Mrs.  Drake,  and  referred 
her  to  the  under-liouse-maids.  The  under-house-maids  declared 
they  were  all  behindhand  and  had  not  a  minute  to  spare — they  sug- 
gested, not  too  civilly,  that  old  Mazey  had  nothing  on  earth  to  do, 
and  that  he  knew  the  house  as  well,  or  better,  than  he  knew  his  A 
B  C.  Magdalen  took  the  hint,  with  a  secret  indignation  and  con- 
tempt which  it  cost  her  a  hard  struggle  to  conceal.  She  had  sus- 
pected, on  the  previous  night,  and  she  was  certain  now,  that  the 
women-servants  all  incomprehensibly  resented  her  presence  among 
them  with  the  same  sullen  unanimity  of  distrust.  Mrs.  Drake,  as 
she  had  seen  for  herself,  was  really  engaged  that  morning  over  her 
accounts.  But  of  all  the  servants  under  her  who  had  made  their 
excuses  not  one  had  even  affected  to  be  more  occupied  than  usual. 
Their  looks  said  plainly,  "We  don't  like  you;  and  we  won't  show 
you  over  the  house." 

She  found  her  way  to  old  Mazey,  not  by  the  scanty  directions 
given  her,  but  by  the  sound  of  the  veteran's  cracked  and  qua\ering 
voice,  singing  in  some  distant  seclusion  a  verse  of  the  immortal 
sea-song — "Tom  Bowding."  Just  as  she  stopped  among  the  ram 
bling  stone  passages  on  the  basement  story  of  the  house,  uncertain 
Which  way  to  turn  next,  she  heard  the  tuneless  old  voice  in  the  dis- 
tance, singing  these  fines : 

"  His  form  was  of  the  manliest  beau-u-u-uty, 

His  heart  was  ki-i-ind  and  soft; 

Faithful  below  Tom  did  his  duty, 

But  now  he's  gone  alo-o-o-o-oft- 

But  now  he's  go-o-o-one  aloft !" 

Magdalen  followed  in  the  direction  of  the  quavering  voice,  and 
found  herself  in  a  little  room  looking  out  on  the  back  yard.  There 
sat  old  Mazey,  with  his  spectacles  low  on  his  nose,  and  his  knotty 
old  hands  blundering  over  the  rigging  of  his  model  ship.  Then- 
were  Brutus  and  Cassins  digesting  before  the  fire  again,  and  snor- 
ing as  if  they  thoroughly  enjoyed  it.  There  was  Lord  Nelson  on 
one  wall,  in  flaming  water-colors  ;  and  there,  on  the  other,  was  a 
portrait  of  Admiral  Hart  ram's  last  Hag  ship,  in  full  sail  on  a  sea  of 
slate,  with  a  salmon-colored  sky  to  complete  the  illusion. 


NO    NAMK.  521 

"What,  they  won't  show  you  over  the  house — won't  (hey  V  said 
old  Mazey.  "  I  will,  then  !  That  head  house-maid's  a  sour  one,  my 
dear — if  ever  there  was  a  sour  one  yet.  You're  too  young  and  ^ood- 
looking  to  please  'em  tint's  what  you  are.'1  lie  rose,  took  off  his 
spectacles,  and  feebly  mended  the  lire.  "  She's  as  straight  as  a  pop 
lar,"  said  old  Mazey,  considering  Magdalen's  figure  in  drowsy  soldo 
quy.  "  I  say  she's  as  straight  as  a  poplar,  and  his  honor  the  admiral 
says  so  too!  Come  along,  my  dear,"  he  proceeded,  addressing  him 
self  to  Magdalen  again.  "  I'll  teach  you  your  Pints  of  the  Compass 
first.  When  you  know  your  Pints,  blow  high,  blow  low,  you'll  find 
it  plain  Bailing  all  over  the  house." 

He  led  the  way  to  the  door — stopped,  and  suddenly  bethinking 
himself  of  his  miniature  ship,  went  back  to  put  his  model  away  in 
an  empty  cupboard — led  the  way  to  the  door  again — stopped  once 
more — remembered  that  some  of  the  rooms  were  chilly — and  potter- 
ed about,  swearing  and  grumbling,  and  looking  for  his  hat.  Mag- 
dalen sat  down  patiently  to  wait  for  him.  She  gratefully  contrast- 
ed his  treatment  of  her  with  the  treatment  she  had  received  from 
the  women.  Resist  it  as  firmly,  despise  it  as  proudly  as  we  may, 
all  studied  unkindness — no  matter  how  contemptible  it  may  be — 
has  a  stinging  power  in  it  which  reaches  to  the  quick.  Magdalen 
only  knew  how  she  had  felt  the  small  malice  of  the  female  servants, 
by  the  effect  which  the  tdtigh  kindness  of  the  old  sailor  produced 
on  her  afterward.  The  dumb  welcome  of  the  dogs,  when  the  move- 
ments in  the  room  had  roused  them  from  their  sleep,  touched  her 
more  acutely  still.  Brutus  pushed  his  mighty  muzzle  companion- 
ably  into  her  hand  ;  and  Cassius  laid  his  friendly  fore-paw  on  her 
lap.  Her  heart  yearned  over  the  two  creatures  as  she  patted  and 
caressed  them.  It  seemed  only  yesterday  since  she  and  the  dogs  at 
Combe-Raven  had  roamed  the  garden  together,  and  had  idled  away 
the  summer  mornings  luxuriously  on  the  shady  lawn. 

Old  Mazey  found  his  hat  at  last,  and  they  started  on  their  explor- 
ing expedition,  with  the  dogs  after  them. 

Leaving  the  basement  story  of  the  house,  which  was  entirely  de- 
voted to  the  servants'  offices,  they  ascended  to  the  first  floor,  and 
entered  the  long  corridor,  with  which  Magdalen's  last  night's  ex- 
perience had  already  made  her  acquainted.  "  Put  your  back  agin 
this  wall,"  said  old  Mazey,  pointing  to  the  long  wall — pierced  at  ir- 
regular intervals  with  windows  looking  out  over  a  court-yard  and 
fish-pond  —  which  formed  the  right-hand  side  of  the  corridor,  as 
Magdalen  now  stood.  "Put  your  back  here,"  said  the  veteran, 
"and  look  straight  afore  you.  What  do  you  see  ?" — "The  opposite 
wall  of  the  passage,"  said  Magdalen.  —  "Ay!  ay!  what  else?" — 
"The  doors  leading  into  the  rooms." — "What  else?"— "I  see  noth- 
ing else."     Old  Mazey  chuckled,  winked,  and  shook  his  knotty  fore- 


522  NO   NAME. 

finger  at  Magdalen,  impressively.  "  You  see  one  of  the  Pints  of  the 
Compass,  my  dear.  When  you've  got  your  back  agin  this  wall,  and 
when  you  look  straight  afore  you,  you  look  Noathe.  If  you  ever 
get  lost  hereaway,  put  your  back  agin  the  wall,  look  out  straight 
afore  you,  and  say  to  yourself,  '  I  look  Noathe !'  You  do  that  like 
a  good  girl,  and  you  won't  lose  your  bearings." 

After  administering  this  preliminary  dose  of  instruction,  old 
Mazey  opened  the  first  of  the  doors  on  the  left-hand  side  of  the  pas- 
sage. It  led  into  the  dining-room,  with  which  Magdalen  was  al- 
ready familiar.  The  second  room  was  fitted  up  as  a  library ;  and 
the  third,  as  a  morning-room.  The  fourth  and  fifth  doors — both 
belonging  to  dismantled  and  uninhabited  rooms,  and  both  locked — 
brought  them  to  the  end  of  the  north  wing  of  the  house,  and  to  the 
opening  of  a  second  and  shorter  passage,  placed  at  a  right  angle  to 
the  first.  Here  old  Mazey,  who  had  divided  his  time  pretty  equal- 
ly during  the  investigation  of  the  rooms,  in  talking  of  "  his  honor 
the  Admiral,"  and  whistling  to  the  dogs,  returned  with  all  possible 
expedition  to  the  points  of  the  compass,  and  gravely  directed  Mag- 
dalen to  repeat  the  ceremony  of  putting  her  back  against  the  wall. 
She  attempted  to  shorten  the  proceedings,  by  declaring  (quite  cor- 
rectly) that  in  her  present  position  she  knew  she  was  looking  east. 
"  Don't  you  talk  about  the  east,  my  dear,"  said  old  Mazey,  proceed- 
ing unmoved  with  his  own  system  of  instruction,  "  till  you  know 
the  east  first.  Put  your  back  agin  this  wall,  and  look  straight  afore 
you.  What  do  you  see  ?"  The  remainder  of  the  catechism  pro- 
ceeded as  before.  When  the  end  was  reached,  Magdalen's  in- 
structor was  satisfied.  He  chuckled  and  winked  at  her  once  more. 
"  Now  you  may  talk  about  the  east,  my  dear,"  said  the  veteran, 
"  for  now  you  know  it." 

The  east  passage,  after  leading  them  on  for  a  few  yards  only, 
terminated  in  a  vestibule,  with  a  high  door  in  it  which  faced  them 
as  they  advanced.  The  door  admitted  them  to  a  large  and  lofty 
drawing-room,  decorated,  Uke  all  the  other  apartments,  with  valu- 
able old-fashioned  furniture.  Leading  the  way  across  this  room, 
Magdalen's  conductor  pushed  back  a  heavy  sliding-door,  opposite 
the  door  of  entrance.  "  Put  your  apron  over  your  head,"  said  old 
Mazey.  "We  are  coming  to  the  Banketing-Hall  now.  The  floor's 
mortal  cold,  and  the  damp  sticks  to  the  place  like  cockroaches  to  a 
collier.  His  honor  the  admiral  calls  it  the  Arctic  Passage.  I've  got 
my  name  for  it,  too — I  call  it,  Freeze-your-Bones." 

Magdalen  passed  through  the  door-way,  and  found  herself  in  the 
ancient  Banqueting-Hall  of  St.  Crux. 

On  her  left  hand  she  saw  a  row  of  lofty  windows,  set  deep  in 
embrasures,  and  extending  over  a  frontage  of  more  than  a  hundred 
feet  in  length.     On  her  right  hand,  ranged  in  one  long  row  from 


NO   NAME.  523 

end  to  end  of  the  opposite  wall,  hung  a  dismal  collection  of  black, 
begrimed  old  pictures,  rotting  from  their  frames,  and  representing 
battle-scenes  by  sea  and  land.  Below  the  pictures,  midway  down 
the  length  of  the  wall,  yawned  a  huge  cavern  of  a  fire-place,  sur- 
mounted by  a  towering  mantel-piece  of  black  marble.  The  one  ob- 
ject of  furniture  (if  furniture  it  might  be  called)  visible  far  or  near 
in  the  vast  emptiness  of  the  place,  was  a  gaunt  ancient  tripod  of 
curiously  chased  metal,  standing  lonely  in  the  middle  of  the  hall, 
and  supporting  a  wide  circular  pan,  filled  deep  with  ashes  from  an 
extinct  charcoal  fire.  The  high  ceiling,  once  finely  carved  and  gilt, 
was  foul  with  dirt  and  cobwebs ;  the  naked  walls  at  either  end  of 
the  room  were  stained  with  damp ;  and  the  cold  of  the  marble  floor 
struck  through  the  narrow  strip  of  matting  laid  down,  parallel  with 
the  windows,  as  a  foot-path  for  passengers  across  the  wilderness  of 
the  room.  No  better  name  for  it  could  have  been  devised  than  the 
name  which  old  Mazey  had  found.  "  Freeze-your-Bones  "  accurate- 
ly described  in  three  words,  the  Banqueting-Hall  at  St.  Crux. 

"Do  you  never  light  afire  in  this  dismal  place  ?"  asked  Magdalen. 

"  It  all  depends  on  which  side  of  Freeze-your-Bones  his  honor  the 
admiral  lives,"  said  old  Mazey.  "  His  honor  likes  to  shift  his  quar- 
ters, sometimes  to  one  side  of  the  house,  sometimes  to  the  other. 
If  he  lives  Noathe  of  Freeze-your-Bones  —  which  is  where  you've 
just  come  from— we  don't  waste  our  coals  here.  If  he  lives  South 
of  Freeze-your-Bones — which  is  where  we  are  going  to  next — we 
light  the  fire  in  the  grate  and  the  charcoal  in  the  pan.  Every  night, 
when  we  do  that,  the  damp  gets  the  better  of  us :  every  morning 
we  turn  to  again,  and  get  the  better  of  the  damp." 

With  this  remarkable  explanation,  old  Mazey  led  the  way  to  the 
lower  end  of  the  Hall,  opened  more  doors,  and  showed  Magdalen 
through  another  suite  of  rooms,  four  in  number,  all  of  moderate  size, 
and  all  furnished  in  much  the  same  manner  as  the  rooms  in  the 
northern  wing.  She  looked  out  of  the  windows,  and  saw  the  neg- 
lected gardens  of  St.  Crux,  overgrown  with  brambles  and  weeds. 
Here  and  there,  at  no  great  distance  in  the  grounds,  the  smoothly 
curving  line  of  one  of  the  tidal  streams  peculiar  to  the  locality 
wound  its  way,  gleaming  in  the  sunlight,  through  gaps  in  the  bram- 
bles and  trees.  The  more  distant  view  ranged  over  the  flat  eastward 
country  beyond,  speckled  with  its  scattered  little  villages ;  crossed 
and  recrossed  by  its  net-work  of  "  backwaters ;"  and  terminated 
abruptly  by  the  long  straight  line  of  sea-wall  which  protects  the 
defenseless  coast  of  Essex  from  invasion  by  the  sea. 

"  Have  we  more  rooms  still  to  see  ?"  asked  Magdalen,  turning 
from  the  view  of  the  garden,  and  looking  about  her  for  another 
door. 

"  No  more,  my  dear — we've  run  aground  here,  and  we  may  aa 


524  NO    NAME. 

well  wear  round  and  put  back  again,"  said  old  Mazey.  "  There's 
another  side  to  the  house  —  due  south  of  you  as  you  stand  now — 
which  is  all  tumbling  about  our  ears.  You  must  go  out  into  the  gar- 
den if  you  want  to  see  it ;  it's  built  off  from  us  by  a  brick  bulk-head, 
t'other  side  of  this  wall  here.  The  monks  lived  due  south  of  us, 
my  dear,  hundreds  of  years  afore  his  honor  the  admiral  was  born  or 
thought  of,  and  a  fine  time  of  it  they  had,  as  I've  heard.  They  sang 
in  the  church  all  the  morning,  and  drank  grog  in  the  orchard  all 
the  afternoon.  They  slept  off  their  grog  on  the  best  of  feather-beds, 
and  they  fattened  on  the  neighborhood  all  the  year  round.  Lucky 
beggars !  lucky  beggars !" 

Apostrophizing  the  monks  in  these  terms,  and  evidently  regret- 
ting that  he  had  not  lived  himself  in  those  good  old  times,  the  vet- 
eran led  the  way  back  through  the  rooms.  On  the  return  passage 
across  "  Freeze-your-Bones,"  Magdalen  preceded  him.  "  She's  as 
straight  as  a  poplar,"  mumbled  old  Mazey  to  himself,  hobbling 
along  after  his  youthful  companion,  and  wagging  his  venerable 
head  in  cordial  approval.  "  I  never  was  particular  what  nation  they 
belonged  to  ;  but  I  always  did  like  'em  straight  and  fine  grown,  and 
I  always  shall  like  'em  straight  and  fine  grown,  to  my  dying  day." 

"Are  there  more  rooms  to  see  up  stairs,  on  the  second  floor?" 
asked  Magdalen,  when  they  had  returned  to  the  point  from  which 
they  had  started. 

The  naturally  clear  distinct  tones  of  her  voice  had  hitherto  reached 
the  old  sailor's  imperfect  sense  of  hearing  easily  enough.  Rather  to 
her  surprise,  he  became  stone-deaf,  on  a  sudden,  to  her  last  question. 

"Are  you  sure  of  your  Pints  of  the  Compass  ?"  he  inquired.  "If 
you're  not  sure,  put  your  back  agin  the  wall,  and  we'll  go  all  over 
'em  again,  my  dear,  beginning  with  the  Noathe." 

Magdalen  assured  him  that  she  felt  quite  familiar,  by  this  time, 
with  all  the  points,  the  "  Noathe  "  included  ;  and  then  repeated  her 
question  in  louder  tones.  The  veteran  obstinately  matched  her  by 
becoming  deafer  than  ever. 

"  Yes,  my  dear,"  he  said,  "  you're  right ;  it  is  chilly  in  these  pas- 
sages ;  and  unless  I  go  back  to  my  fire,  my  fire'll  go  out — won't  it  ? 
If  you  don't  feel  sure  of  your  Pints  of  the  Compass,  come  in  to  me 
and  I'll  put  you  right  again."  He  winked  benevolently,  whistled 
to  the  dogs,  and  hobbled  off.  Magdalen  heard  him  chuckle  over 
his  own  success  in  balking  her  curiosity  on  the  subject  of  the  sec- 
ond floor.  "  I  know  how  to  deal  with  'em  !"  said  old  Mazey  to  him- 
self, in  high  triumph.  "  Tall  and  short,  native  and  foreign,  sweet- 
hearts and  wives — /  know  how  to  deal  with  'em  !" 

Left  by  herself,  Magdalen  exemplified  the  excellence  of  the  old 
sailor's  method  of  treatment,  in  her  particular  case,  by  ascending 
the  stairs  immediately,  to  make  her  own  observations  on  the  sec 


NO    NAME.  525 

end  floor.  The  stone  passage  liere  was  exactly  similar,  except  that 
more  doors  opened  out  of  it,  to  t lie*  passage  on  the  first  floor.  She 
u|iriic(l  the  two  nearest  doors,  one  after  another,  at  a  venture,  and 
discovered  that  both  rooms  were  bed-chambers.  The  fear  of  being 
discovered  by  one  of  the  women-servants  in  a  part  of  the  house  with 
which  she  had  no  concern,  warned  her  not  to  push  her  investiga- 
tions on  the  bedroom  floor  too  far  at  starting.  She  hurriedly  walk- 
ed down  the  passage  to  see  where  it  ended,  discovered  that  it  came 
to  its  termination  in  a  lumber-room,  answering  to  the  position  of 
the  vestibule  down  stairs,  and  retraced  her  steps  immediately. 

On  her  way  back  she  noticed  an  object  which  had  previously  es- 
caped her  attention.  It  was  a  low  truckle-bed,  placed  parallel  with 
the  wall,  and  close  to  one  of  the  doors  on  the  bedroom  side.  In 
spite  of  its  strange  and  comfortless  situation,  the  bed  was  apparent- 
ly occupied  at  night  by  a  sleeper :  the  sheets  were  on  it,  and  the 
end  of  a  thick  red  fisherman's  cap  peeped  out  from  under  the  pil- 
low. She  ventured  on  opening  the  door  near  which  the  bed  was 
placed,  and  found  herself,  as  she  conjectured  from  certain  signs  and 
tokens,  in  the  admiral's  sleeping  chamber.  A  moment's  observa- 
tion of  the  room  was  all  she  dared  risk,  and,  softly  closing  the  door 
again,  she  returned  to  the  kitchen  regions. 

The  truckle-bed,  and  the  strange  position  in  which  it  was  placed, 
dwelt  on  her  mind  all  through  the  afternoon.  Who  could  possibly 
sleep  in  it  ?  The  remembrance  of  the  red  fisherman's  cap,  and  the 
knowledge  she  had  already  gained  of  Mazey's  dog-like  fidelity  to 
his  master,  helped  her  to  guess  that  the  old  sailor  might  be  the  oc- 
cupant of  the  truckle-bed.  But  why,  with  bedrooms  enough  and 
to  spare,  should  he  occupy  that  cold  and  comfortless  situation  at 
night  ?  Why  should  he  sleep  on  guard  outside  his  master's  door  ? 
Was  there  some  nocturnal  danger  in  the  house  of  which  the  admiral 
was  afraid  ?  The  question  seemed  absurd,  and  yet  the  position  of 
the  bed  forced  it  irresistibly  on  her  mind. 

Stimulated  by  her  own  ungovernable  curiosity  on  this  subject, 
Magdalen  ventured  to  question  the  housekeeper.  She  acknowl- 
edged having  walked  from  end  to  end  of  the  passage  on  the  second 
floor,  to  see  if  it  was  as  long  as  the  passage  on  the  first ;  and  she 
mentioned  having  noticed  with  astonishment  the  position  of  the 
truckle-bed.  Mrs.  Drake  answered  her  implied  inquiry  shortly  and 
sharply.  "  I  don't  blame  a  young  girl  like  you,"  said  the  old  lady, 
"  for  being  a  little  curious  when  she  first  comes  into  such  a  strange 
house  as  this.  But  remember,  for  the  future,  that  your  business 
does  not  lie  on  the  bedroom  story.  Mr.  Mazey  sleeps  on  that  bed 
you  noticed.  It  is  his  habit  at  night  to  sleep  outside  his  master's 
door."  With  that  meagre  explanation  Mrs.  Drake's  lips  closed,  and 
opened  no  more. 


526  NO    NAME. 

Later  in  the  day  Magdalen  found  an  opportunity  of  applying  to 
old  Mazey  himself.  She  discovered  the  veteran  in  high  good  hu- 
mor, smoking  his  pipe,  and  warming  a  tin  mug  of  ale  at  his  own 
snug  Are. 

"  Mr.  Mazey,"  she  asked  boldly,  "  why  do  you  put  your  bed  in 
that  cold  passage  ?" 

"  What !  you  have  been  up  stairs,  you  young  jade,  have  you  ?" 
said  old  Mazey,  looking  up  from  his  mug  with  a  leer. 

Magdalen  smiled,  and  nodded.  "  Come  !  come  !  tell  me,"  she 
said,  coaxingly.     "  Why  do  you  sleep  outside  the  admiral's  door  ?" 

"  Why  do  you  part  your  hair  in  the  middle,  my  dear  ?"  asked  old 
Mazey,  with  another  leer. 

"  I  suppose,  because  I  am  accustomed  to  do  it,"  answered  Mag- 
dalen. 

"  Ay !  ay  !"  said  the  veteran.  "  That's  why,  is  it  ?  Well,  my  dear, 
the  reason  why  you  part  your  hair  in  the  middle  is  the  reason  why 
I  sleep  outside  the  admiral's  door.  I  know  how  to  deal  with  'em !" 
chuckled  old  Mazey,  lapsing  into  soliloquy,  and  stirring  up  his  ale 
in  high  triumph.  "  Tall  and  short,  native  and  foreign,  sweethearts 
and  wives — /know  how  to  deal  with  'em !" 

Magdalen's  third  and  last  attempt  at  solving  the  mystery  of  the 
truckle-bed  was  made  while  she  was  waiting  on  the  admiral  at  din- 
ner. The  old  gentleman's  questions  gave  her  an  opportunity  of 
referring  to  the  subject,  without  any  appearance  of  presumption  or 
disrespect ;  but  he  proved  to  be  quite  as  impenetrable,  in  his  way, 
as  old  Mazey  and  Mrs.  Drake  had  been  in  theirs.  "  It  doesn't  con- 
cern you,  my  dear,"  said  the  admiral,  bluntly.  "  Don't  be  curious. 
Look  in  your  Old  Testament  when  you  go  down  stairs,  and  see  what 
happened  in  the  Garden  of  Eden  through  curiosity.  Be  a  good 
girl,  and  don't  imitate  your  mother  Eve." 

Late  at  night,  as  Magdalen  passed  the  end  of  the  second-floor 
passage,  proceeding  alone  on  her  way  up  to  her  own  room,  she 
stopped  and  listened.  A  screen  was  placed  at  the  entrance  of  the 
corridor,  so  as  to  hide  it  from  the  view  of  persons  passing  on  the 
stairs.  The  snoring  she  heard  on  the  other  side  of  the  screen  en- 
couraged her  to  slip  round  it,  and  to  advance  a  few  steps.  Shad- 
ing the  light  of  her  candle  with  her  hand,  she  ventured  close  to 
the  admiral's  door,  and  saw,  to  her  surprise,  that  the  bed  had  been 
moved  since  she  had  seen  it  in  the  day-time,  so  as  to  stand  exactly 
across  the  door,  and  to  bar  the  way  entirely  to  any  one  who  might 
attempt  to  enter  the  admiral's  room.  After  this  discovery,  old 
Mazey  himself,  snoring  lustily,  with  the  red  fisherman's  cap  pulled 
down  to  his  eyebrows,  and  the  blankets  drawn  up  to  his  nose,  be- 
came an  object  of  secondary  importance  only,  by  comparison  with 
his  bed.     That  the  veteran  did  actually  sleep  on  guard  before  his 


NO    NAME.  527 

master's  door,  and  that  he  and  the  admiral  and  the  housekeeper 
were  in  the  secret  of  this  unaccountable  proceeding,  was  now  be- 
yond all  doubt. 

"A  strange  end,"  thought  Magdalen,  pondering  over  her  discov- 
ery as  she  stole  up  stairs  to  her  own  sleeping-room — "  a  strange  end 
to  a  strange  day  !" 


CHAPTER  II. 

The  first  week  passed,  the  second  week  passed,  and  Magdalen 
was,  to  all  appearance,  no  nearer  to  the  discovery  of  the  Secret 
Trust  than  on  the  day  when  she  first  entered  on  her  service  at  St. 
Crux. 

But  the  fortnight,  uneventful  as  it  was,  had  not  been  a  fortnight 
lost.  Experience  had  already  satisfied  her  on  one  important  point 
— experience  had  shown  that  she  could  set  the  rooted  distrust  of 
the  other  servants  safely  at  defiance.  Time  had  accustomed  the 
women  to  her  presence  in  the  house,  without  shaking  the  vague 
conviction  which  possessed  them  all  alike,  that  the  new-comer  was 
not  one  of  themselves.  All  that  Magdalen  could  do  in  her  own  de- 
fense was  to  keep  the  instinctive  female  suspicion  of  her  confined 
within  those  purely  negative  limits  which  it  had  occupied  from  the 
first,  and  this  she  accomplished. 

Day  after  day  the  women  watched  her  with  the  untiring  vigilance 
of  malice  and  distrust,  and  day  after  day  not  the  vestige  of  a  dis- 
covery rewarded  them  for  their  pains.  Silently,  intelligently,  and 
industriously — with  an  ever-present  remembrance  of  herself  and  her 
place — the  new  parlor-maid  did  her  work.  Her  only  intervals  of 
rest  and  relaxation  were  the  intervals  passed  occasionally  in  the  day 
with  old  Mazey  and  the  dogs,  and  the  precious  interval  of  the  night 
during  which  she  was  secure  from  observation  in  the  solitude  of  her 
room.  Thanks  to  the  superfluity  of  bed-chambers  at  St.  Crux,  each 
one  of  the  servants  had  the  choice,  if  she  pleased,  of  sleeping  in  a 
room  of  her  own.  Alone  in  the  night,  Magdalen  might  dare  to  be 
herself  again — might  dream  of  the  past,  and  wake  from  the  dream, 
encountering  no  curious  eyes  to  notice  that  she  was  in  tears — might 
ponder  over  the  future,  and  be  roused  by  no  whisperings  in  corners, 
which  tainted  her  with  the  suspicion  of  "  having  something  on  her 
mind." 

Satisfied,  thus  far,  of  the  perfect  security  of  her  position  in  the 
house,  she  profited  next  by  a  second  chance  in  her  favor,  which — 
before  the  fortnight  was  at  an  end — relieved  her  mind  of  all  doubt 
on  the  formidable  subject  of  Mrs.  Lecount. 

Partly  from  the  accidental  gossip  of  the  women  at  the  table  vx 


528  NO    NAME. 

the  servants'  hall ;  partly  from  a  marked  paragraph  in  a  Swiss  news- 
paper, which  she  had  found  one  morning  lying  open  on  the  ad- 
miral's easy-chair — she  gained  the  welcome  assurance  that  no  dan- 
ger was  to  be  dreaded,  this  time,  from  the  housekeeper's  presence 
on  the  scene.  Mrs.  Lecount  had,  as  it  appeared,  passed  a  week  or 
more  at  St.  Crux  after  the  date  of  her  master's  death,  and  had  then 
left  England,  to  live  on  the  interest  of  her  legacy,  in  honorable  and 
prosperous  retirement,  in  her  native  place.  The  paragraph  in  the 
Swiss  newspaper  described  the  fulfillment  of  this  laudable  project. 
Mrs.  Lecount  had  not  only  established  herself  at  Zurich,  but  (wisely 
mindful  of  the  uncertainty  of  life)  had  also  settled  the  charitable 
uses  to  which  her  fortune  was  to  be  applied  after  her  death.  One 
half  of  it  was  to  go  to  the  founding  of  a  "  Lecompte  Scholarship  " 
for  poor  students  in  the  University  of  Geneva.  The  other  half  was 
to  be  employed  by  the  municipal  authorities  of  Zurich  in  the  main- 
tenance and  education  of  a  certain  number  of  orphan  girls,  natives 
of  the  city,  who  were  to  be  trained  for  domestic  service  in  later  life. 
The  Swiss  journalist  adverted  to  these  philanthropic  bequests  in 
terms  of  extravagant  eulogy.  Zurich  was  congratulated  on  the  pos- 
session of  a  Paragon  of  jmblic  virtue ;  and  William  Tell,  in  the  char- 
acter of  benefactor  to  Switzerland,  was  compared  disadvantageous^ 
with  Mrs.  Lecount. 

The  third  week  began,  and  Magdalen  was  now  at  liberty  to  take 
her  first  step  forward  on  the  way  to  the  discovery  of  the  Secret 
Trust. 

She  ascertained  from  old  Mazey  that  it  was  his  master's  custom, 
during  the  winter  and  spring  months,  to  occupy  the  rooms  in  the 
north  wing ;  and  during  the  summer  and  autumn  to  cross  the  Arc- 
tic passage  of  "  Freeze-your-Bones,"  and  live  in  the  eastward  apart- 
ments which  looked  out  on  the  garden.  While  the  Banqueting- 
Hall  remained — owing  to  the  admiral's  inadequate  pecuniary  re- 
sources—in its  damp  and  dismantled  state,  and  while  the  interior 
of  St.  Crux  was  thus  comfortlessly  divided  into  two  separate  resi- 
dences, no  more  convenient  arrangement  than  this  could  well  have 
been  devised.  Now  and  then  (as  Magdalen  understood  from  her 
informant)  there  were  days,  both  in  winter  and  summer,  when  the 
admiral  became  anxious  about  the  condition  of  the  rooms  which  he 
was  not  occupying  at  the  time,  and  when  he  insisted  on  investiga- 
ting the  state  of  the  furniture,  the  pictures,  and  the  books  with  his 
own  eyes.  On  these  occasions,  in  summer  as  in  winter,  a  blazing 
fire  was  kindled  for  some  days  previously  in  the  large  grate,  and 
the  charcoal  was  lit  in  the  tripod-pan,  to  keep  the  Banqueting-Hall 
as  warm  as  circumstances  would  admit.  As  soon  as  the  old  gentle- 
man's anxieties  were  set  at  rest  the  rooms  were  shut  up  again,  and 


NO    NAME.  529 

"  Freeze -your- Bones  "  was  once  more  abandoned  for  weeks  and 
weeks  together  to  damp,  desolation,  and  decay.  The  last  of  these 
temporary  migrations  had  taken  place  only  a  few  days  since;  the 
admiral  had  satisfied  himself  that  the  rooms  in  the  east  wiag  were 
none  the  worse  for  the  absence  of  their  master,  and  he  might  now 
be  safely  reckoned  on  as  settled  in  the  north  wing  for  weeks,  and 
perhaps,  if  the  season  was  cold,  for  months  to  come. 

Trifling  as  they  might  be  in  themselves,  these  particulars  were  of 
serious  importance  to  Magdalen,  for  they  helped  her  to  fix  the  lim- 
its of  the  field  of  search.  Assuming  that  the  admiral  was  likely  to 
keep  all  his  important  documents  within  easy  reach  of  his  own 
hand,  she  might  now  feel  certain  that  the  Secret  Trust  was  secured 
in  one  or  other  of  the  rooms  in  the  north  wing. 

In  which  room  ?     That  question  was  not  easy  to  answer. 

Of  the  four  inhabitable  rooms  which  were  all  at  the  admiral's  dis- 
posal during  the  day — that  is  to  say,  of  the  dining-room,  the  libra- 
ry, the  morning-room,  and  the  drawing-room  opening  out  of  the 
vestibule — the  library  appeared  to  be  the  apartment  in  which,  if 
he  had  a  preference,  he  passed  the  greater  part  of  his  time.  There 
was  a  table  in  this  room,  with  drawers  that  locked ;  there  was  a 
magnificent  Italian  cabinet,  with  doors  that  locked ;  there  were  five- 
cupboards  under  the  book-cases,  every  one  of  which  locked.  There 
were  receptacles  similarly  secured  in  the  other  rooms ;  and  in  all  or 
any  of  these  papers  might  be  kept. 

She  had  answered  the  bell,  and  had  seen  him  locking  and  un- 
locking, now  in  one  room  now  in  another,  but  oftenest  in  the  libra- 
ry. She  had  noticed  occasionally  that  his  expression  was  fretful 
and  impatient  when  he  looked  round  at  her  from  an  open  cabinet 
or  cupboard  and  gave  his  orders ;  and  she  inferred  that  something 
in  connection  with  his  papers  and  possessions— it  might  or  might 
not  be  the  Secret  Trust — irritated  and  annoyed  him  from  time  to 
time.  She  had  heard  him  more  than  once  lock  something  up  in 
one  of  the  rooms,  come  out  and  go  into  another  room,  wait  there  a 
few  minutes,  then  return  to  the  first  room  with  his  keys  in  his  hand, 
and  sharply  turn  the  locks  and  turn  them  again.  This  fidgety  anx- 
iety about  his  keys  and  his  cupboards  might  be  the  result  of  the  in- 
bred restlessness  of  his  disposition,  aggravated  in  a  naturally  active 
man  by  the  aimless  indolence  of  a  life  in  retirement — a  life  drifting 
backward  and  forward  among  trifles,  with  no  regular  employment 
to  steady  it  at  any  given  hour  of  the  day.  On  the  other  hand,  it 
was  just  as  probable  that  these  comings  and  goings,  these  lockings 
and  unlockings,  might  be  attributable  to  the  existence  of  some  pri- 
vate responsibility  which  had  unexpectedly  intruded  itself  into  the 
old  man's  easy  existence,  and  which  tormented  him  with  a  sense  of 
oppression  new  to  the  experience  of  his  later  years.     Either  one  of 


530  NO   NAME. 

these  interpretations  might  explain  his  conduct  as  reasonably  and 
as  probably  as  the  other.  Which  was  the  right  interpretation  of 
the  two,  it  was,  in  Magdalen's  position,  impossible  to  say. 

The  one  certain  discovery  at  which  she  arrived  was  made  in  her 
first  day's  observation  of  him.  The  admiral  was  a  rigidly  careful 
man  with  his  keys. 

All  the  smaller  keys  he  kept  on  a  ring  in  the  breast-pocket  of  his 
coat.  The  larger  he  locked  up  together ;  generally,  but  not  always, 
in  one  of  the  drawers  of  the  library  table.  Sometimes  he  left  them 
secured  in  this  way  at  night ;  sometimes  he  took  them  up  to  the 
bedroom  with  him  in  a  little  basket.  He  had  no  regular  times  for 
leaving  them  or  for  taking  them  away  with  him ;  he  had  no  dis- 
coverable reason  for  now  securing  them  in  the  library-table  drawer, 
and  now  again  locking  them  up  in  some  other  place.  The  inveter- 
ate willfulness  and  caprice  of  his  proceedings  in  these  particulars 
defied  every  effort  to  reduce  them  to  a  system,  and  baffled  all  at- 
tempts at  calculating  on  them  beforehand. 

The  hope  of  gaining  positive  information  to  act  on,  by  laying  art- 
ful snares  for  him  which  he  might  fall  into  in  his  talk,  proved,  from 
the  outset,  to  be  utterly  futile. 

In  Magdalen's  situation  all  experiments  of  this  sort  would  have 
been  in  the  last  degree  difficult  and  dangerous  with  any  man.  With 
the  admiral  they  were  simply  impossible.  His  tendency  to  veer 
about  from  one  subject  to  another  ;  his  habit  of  keeping  his  tongue 
perpetually  going,  so  long  as  there  was  any  body,  no  matter  whom, 
within  reach  of  the  sound  of  his  voice  ;  his  comical  want  of  all  dig- 
nity and  reserve  with  his  servants,  promised,  in  appearance,  much, 
and  performed  in  reality  nothing.  No  matter  how  diffidently  or 
how  respectfully  Magdalen  might  presume  on  her  master's  example, 
and  on  her  master's  evident  liking  for  her,  the  old  man  instantly 
discovered  the  advance  she  was  making  from  her  proper  position, 
and  instantly  put  her  back  in  it  again,  with  a  quaint  good  humor 
which  inflicted  no  pain,  but  with  a  blunt  straightforwardness  of 
purpose  which  permitted  no  escape.  Contradictory  as  it  may  sound, 
Admiral  Bartram  was  too  familiar  to  be  approached ;  he  kept  the 
distance  between  himself  and  his  servant  more  effectually  than  if  he 
had  been  the  proudest  man  in  England.  The  systematic  reserve  of 
a  superior  toward  an  inferior  may  be  occasionally  overcome — the 
systematic  familiarity  never. 

Slowly  the  time  dragged  on.  The  fourth  week  came ;  and  Mag- 
dalen had  made  no  new  discoveries.  The  prospect  was  depressing 
in  the  last  degree.  Even  in  the  apparently  hopeless  event  of  her  de- 
vising a  means  of  getting  at  the  admiral's  keys,  she  could  not  count 
on  retaining  possession  of  them  unsuspected  more  than  a  few  hours 
—hours  which  might  be  utterly  wasted  through  her  not  knowing 


NO    NAME.  531 

in  what  direction  to  begin  the  search.  The  Trust  might  be  locked 
up  in  any  one  of  some  twenty  receptacles  for  papers,  situated  in  four 
different  rooms  ;  and  which  room  was  the  likeliest  to  look  in,  which 
receptacle  was  the  most  promising  to  begin  with,  winch  position 
among  other  heaps  of  papers  the  one  paper  needful  might  be  ex- 
pected to  occupy,  was  more  than  she  could  say.  Hemmed  in  by  im- 
measurable uncertainties  on  every  side ;  condemned,  as  it  were,  to 
wander  blindfold  on  the  very  brink  of  success,  she  waited  for  the 
chance  that  never  came,  for  the  event  that  never  happened,  with  a 
patience  which  was  sinking  already  into  the  patience  of  despair. 

Night  after  night  she  looked  back  over  the  vanished  days,  and 
not  an  event  rose  on  her  memory  to  distinguish  them  one  from  the 
other.  The  only  interruptions  to  the  weary  uniformity  of  the  life 
at  St.  Crux  were  caused  by  the  characteristic  delinquencies  of  old 
Mazey  and  the  dogs. 

At  certain  intervals,  the  original  wildness  broke  out  in  the  na- 
tures of  Brutus  and  Cassius.  The  modest  comforts  of  home,  the  sa- 
vory charms  of  made  dishes,  the  decorous  joy  of  digestions  accom- 
plished on  hearth-rugs,  lost  all  their  attractions,  and  the  dogs  un- 
gratefully left  the  house  to  seek  dissipation  and  adventure  in  the 
outer  world.  On  these  occasions  the  established  after-dinner  for- 
mula of  question  and  answer  between  old  Mazey  and  his  master 
varied  a  little  in  one  particular.  "  God  bless  the  Queen,  Mazey," 
and  "  How's  the  wind,  Mazey  ?"  were  followed  by  a  new  inquiry  : 
"  Where  are  the  dogs,  Mazey?"  "  Out  on  the  loose,  your  honor,  and 
be  damned  to  'em,"  was  the  veteran's  unvarying  answer.  The  ad- 
miral always  sighed  and  shook  his  head  gravely  at  the  news,  as  if 
Brutus  and  Cassius  had  been  sons  of  his  own,  who  treated  him  with 
a  want  of  proper  filial  respect.  In  two  or  three  days'  time  the  dogs 
always  returned,  lean,  dirty,  and  heartily  ashamed  of  themselves. 
For  the  whole  of  the  next  day  they  were  invariably  tied  up  in  dis- 
grace. On  the  day  after  they  were  scrubbed  clean,  and  were  form- 
ally re  -  admitted  to  the  dining  -  room.  There,  Civilization,  acting 
through  the  subtle  medium  of  the  Saucepan,  recovered  its  hold  on 
them ;  and  the  admiral's  two  prodigal  sons,  when  they  saw  the 
covers  removed,  watered  at  the  mouth  as  copiously  "as  ever. 

Old  Mazey,  in  his  way,  proved  to  be  just  as  disreputably  inclined 
on  certain  occasions  as  the  dogs.  At  intervals,  the  original  wild- 
ness in  Ms  nature  broke  out :  he,  too,  lost  all  relish  for  the  comforts 
of  home,  and  ungratefully  left  the  house.  He  usually  disappeared 
in  the  afternoon,  and  returned  at  night  as  drunk  as  liquor  could 
make  him.  He  was  by  many  degrees  too  seasoned  a  vessel  to  meet 
with  any  disasters  on  these  occasions.  His  wicked  old  legs  might 
take  roundabout  methods  of  progression,  but  they  never  failed  him; 
his  wicked  old  eyes  might  see  double,  but  they  always  showed  him 


632  NO    NAME. 

the  way  home.  Try  as  bard  as  they  might,  the  servants  could  never 
succeed  in  persuading  him  that  lie  was  drunk  :  he  always  scorned 
the  imputation.  He  even  declined  to  admit  the  idea  privately  into 
his  mind,  until  he  had  first  tested  his  condition  by  an  infallible  cri- 
terion of  his  own. 

It  was  his  habit,  in  these  cases  of  Bacchanalian  emergency,  to 
stagger  obstinately  into  his  room  on  the  ground-floor,  to  take  the 
model-ship  out  of  the  cupboard,  and  to  try  if  he  could  proceed  with 
the  never-to-be-completed  employment  of  setting  up  the  rigging. 
When  he  had  smashed  the  tiny  spars,  and  snapped  asunder  the  del- 
icate ropes — then,  and  not  till  then,  the  veteran  admitted  facts  as 
they  were,  on  the  authority  of  practical  evidence.  "Ay!  ay!"  he 
used  to  say  confidentially  to  himself,  u  the  women  are  right.  Drunk 
again,  Mazey  —  drunk  again !"  Having  reached  this  discovery,  it 
was  his  habit  to  wait  cunningly  in  the  lower  regions  until  the  ad- 
miral was  safe  in  his  room,  and  then  to  ascend  in  discreet  list  slip- 
pers to  his  post.  Too  wary  to  attempt  getting  into  the  truckle-bed 
(which  would  have  been  only  inviting  the  catastrorihe  of  a  fall 
against  his  master's  door),  he  always  walked  himself  sober  up  and 
down  the  passage.  More  than  once  Magdalen  had  peeped  round 
the  screen,  and  had  seen  the  old  sailor  unsteadily  keeping  his  watch, 
and  fancying  himself  once  more  at  his  duty  on  board  ship.  "  This  is 
an  uncommonly  lively  vessel  in  a  sea-way,"  he  used  to  mutter  under 
his  breath,  when  his  legs  took  him  down  the  passage  in  zigzag  di- 
rections, or  left  him  for  the  moment  studying  the  "  Pints  of  the  Com- 
pass "  on  his  own  system,  with  his  back  against  the  wall.  "  A  nasty 
night,  mind  you,"  he  would  maunder  on,  taking  another  turn.  "  As 
dark  as  your  pocket,  and  the  wind  heading  us  again  from  the  old 
quarter."  On  the  next  day  old  Mazey,  like  the  dogs,  was  kept  down 
stairs  in  disgrace.  On  the  day  after,  like  the  dogs  again,  he  was  re- 
instated in  his  privileges ;  and  another  change  was  introduced  in  the 
after-dinner  formula.  On  entering  the  room,  the  old  sailor  stopped 
short,  and  made  his  excuses  in  this  brief  yet  comprehensive  form 
of  words,  with  his  back  against  the  door  :  "  Please  your  honor,  I'm 
ashamed  of  myself."  So  the  apology  began  and  ended.  "  This 
mustn't  happen- again,  Mazey,"  the  admiral  used  to  answer.  "It 
sha'n't  happen  again,  your  honor."  "  Very  good.  Come  here,  and 
drink  your  glass  of  wine.  God  bless  the  Queen,  Mazey."  The  vet- 
eran tossed  off  his  port,  and  the  dialogue  ended  as  usual. 

So  the  days  passed,  with  no  incidents  more  important  than  these 
to  relieve  their  monotony,  until  the  end  of  the  fourth  week  was  at 
hand. 

On  the  last  day,  an  event  happened ;  on  the  last  day,  the  long  de- 
ferred promise  of  the  future  unexpectedly  began  to  dawn.  While 
Magdalen  was  spreading  the  cloth  in  the  dining-room,  as  usual,  Mrs. 


NO    NAMK.  533 

Drake  looked  in,  awl  instructed  her  on  this  occasion,  for  the  first 
time,  to  lay  the  table  for  two  persons.  The  admiral  had  received 
a  letter  from  his  nephew.  Early  that  evening  Mr.  George  Bartram 
was  expected  to  return  to  St.  Crux. 


CHAPTER  in. 

After  placing  the  second  cover,  Magdalen  awaited  the  ringing 
of  the  dinner  bell,  with  an  interest  and  impatience  which  she  found 
it  no  easy  task  to  conceal.  The  return  of  Mr.  Bartram  would,  in  all 
probability,  produce  a  change  in  the  life  of  the  house ;  and  from 
change  of  any  kind,  no  matter  how  trifling,  something  might  be 
hoped.  The  nephew  might  be  accessible  to  influences  which  had 
failed  to  reach  the  uncle.  In  any  case,  the  two  would  talk  of  their 
affairs  over  their  dinner ;  and  through  that  talk — proceeding  day 
after  day  in  her  presence — the  way  to  discovery,  now  absolutely  in- 
visible, might,  sooner  or  later,  show  itself. 

At  last  the  bell  rang,  the  door  opened,  and  the  two  gentlemen  en- 
tered the  room  together. 

Magdalen  was  struck,  as  her  sister  had  been  struck,  by  George 
Bartram's  resemblance  to  her  father — judging  by  the  portrait  at 
Combe-Raven,  which  presented  the  likeness  of  Andrew  Vanstone  in 
his  younger  days.  The  light  hair  and  florid  complexion,  the  bright 
blue  eyes  and  hardy  upright  figure,  familiar  to  her  in  the  picture, 
were  all  recalled  to  her  memory,  as  the  nephew  followed  the  uncle 
across  the  room  and  took  his  place  at  table.  She  was  not  prepared 
for  this  sudden  revival  of  the  lost  associations  of  home.  Her  atten- 
tion wandered  as  she  tried  to  conceal  its  effect  on  her;  and  she 
made  a  blunder  in  waiting  at  table,  for  the  first  time  since  she  had 
entered  the  house. 

A  quaint  reprimand  from  the  admiral,  half  in  jest,  half  in  earnest, 
gave  her  time  to  recover  herself.  She  ventured  another  look  at 
George  Bartram.  The  impression  which  he  produced  on  her  this 
time  roused  her  curiosity  immediately.  His  face  and  manner  plain- 
ly expressed  anxiety  and  preoccupation  of  mind.  He  looked  often- 
er  at  his  plate  than  at  his  uncle,  and  at  Magdalen  herself  (except  one 
passing  inspection  of  the  new  parlor-maid,  when  the  admiral  spoke 
to  her)  he  never  looked  at  all.  Some  uncertainty  was  evidently 
troubling  his  thoughts ;  some  oppression  was  weighing  on  his  nat- 
ural freedom  of  manner.  What  uncertainty  ?  what  oppression  ? 
Would  any  personal  revelations  come  out,  little  by  little,  in  the 
course  of  conversation  at  the  dinner-table  ? 

No.  One  set  of  dishes  followed  another  set  of  dishes,  and  noth- 
ing in  the  shape  of  a  personal  revelation  took  place.     The  conver- 


534  NO    NAJVTE. 

sation  halted  on  irregularly,  between  public  affairs  on  one  side  and 
trifling  private  topics  on  the  other.  Politics,  home  and  foreign, 
took  their  turn  with  the  small  household  history  of  St.  Crux :  the 
leaders  of  the  revolution  which  expelled  Louis  Philipjje  from  the 
throne  of  France  marched  side  by  side,  in  the  dinner-table  review, 
with  old  Mazey  and  the  dogs.  The  dessert  was  put  on  the  table, 
the  old  sailor  came  in,  drank  his  loyal  toast,  paid  his  respects  to 
"  Master  George,"  and  went  out  again.  Magdalen  followed  him, 
on  her  way  back  to  the  servants'  offices,  having  heard  nothing  in 
the  conversation  of  the  slightest  importance  to  the  furtherance  of 
her  own  design,  from  the  first  word  of  it  to  the  last.  She  struggled 
hard  not  to  lose  heart  and  hope  on  the  first  day.  They  could  hard- 
ly talk  again  to-morrow,  they  could  hardly  talk  again  the  next  day, 
of  the  French  Revolution  and  the  dogs.  Time  might  do  wonders 
yet ;  and  time  was  all  her  own. 

Left  together  over  their  wine,  the  uncle  and  nephew  drew  their  easy- 
chairs  on  either  side  of  the  fire  ;  and,  in  Magdalen's  absence,  began 
the  very  conversation  which  it  was  Magdalen's  interest  to  hear. 

"  Claret,  George  ?"  said  the  admiral,  pushing  the  bottle  across  the 
table.     "  You  look  out  of  spirits." 

"I  am  a  little  anxious,  sir,"  replied  George,  leaving  hisglass  emp- 
ty, and  looking  straight  into  the  fire. 

"I  am  glad  to  hear  it,"  rejoined  the  admiral.  "I  am  more  than 
a  little  anxious  myself,  I  can  tell  you.  Here  we  are  at  the  last  days 
of  March — and  nothing  done  !  Your  time  comes  to  an  end  on  the 
third  of  May  ;  and  there  you  sit,  as  if  you  had  years  still  before  you 
to  turn  round  in. 

George  smiled,  and  resignedly  helped  himself  to  some  wine. 

"Am  I  really  to  understand,  sir,"  he  asked,  "  that  you  are  serious 
in  what  you  said  to  me  last  November  ?  Are  you  actually  resolved 
to  bind  me  to  that  incomprehensible  condition  ?" 

"  I  don't  call  it  incomprehensible,"  said  the  admiral,  irritably. 

"  Don't  you,  sir  ?  I  am  to  inherit  your  estate,  unconditionally — as 
you  have  generously  settled  it  from  the  first.  But  I  am  not  to  touch 
a  farthing  of  the  fortune  poor  Noel  left  you  unless  I  am  married 
within  a  certain  time.  The  house  and  lands  are  to  be  mine  (thanks 
to  your  kindness)  under  any  circumstances.  But  th*>.  money  with 
which  I  might  improve  them  both  is  to  be  arbitrarily  taken  away 
from  me,  if  I  am  not  a  married  man  on  the  third  of  May.  I  am  sad- 
ly wanting  in  intelligence,  I  dare  say,  but  a  more  incomprehensible 
proceeding  I  never  heard  of!" 

"  No  snapping  and  snarling,  George !  Say  your  say  out.  "We 
don't  understand  sneering  in  Her  Majesty's  Navy  !" 

"  I  mean  no  offense,  sir.     But  I  think  it's  a  little  hard  to  astonish 


NO    NAME.  535 

me  by  a  change  of  proceeding  on  your  part,  entirely  foreign  to  my 
experience  of  your  character — and  then,  when  I  naturally  ask  for 
an  explanation,  to  turn  round  coolly  and  leave  me  in  the  dark.  If 
you  and  Noel  came  to  some  private  arrangement  together  before  he 
made  his  will,  why  not  tell  me  ?  Why  set  up  a  mystery  between 
us,  where  no  mystery  need  be  ?" 

"  I  won't  have  it,  George !"  cried  the  admiral,  angrily  drumming 
on  the  table  with  the  nut-crackers.  "  You  are  trying  to  draw  me 
like  a  badger,  but  I  won't  be  drawn  !  I'll  make  any  conditions  I 
please ;  and  I'll  be  accountable  to  nobody  for  them  unless  I  like. 
It's  quite  bad  enough  to  have  worries  and  responsibilities  laid  on 
my  unlucky  shoulders  that  I  never  bargained  for — never  mind  what 
worries  :  they're  not  yours,  they're  mine— without  being  questioned 
and  cross-questioned  as  if  I  was  a  witness  in  a  box.  Here's  a  pretty 
fellow  !"  continued  the  admiral,  apostrophizing  his  nephew  in  red- 
hot  irritation,  and  addressing  himself  to  the  dogs  on  the  hearth-rug 
for  want  of  a  better  audience.  "  Here's  a  pretty  fellow  ?  He  is 
asked  to  help  himself  to  two  uncommonly  comfortable  things  in 
their  way — a  fortune  and  a  wife;  he  is  allowed  six  months  to  get 
the  wife  in  (we  should  have  got  her,  in  the  Navy,  bag  and  baggage, 
in  six  days) ;  he  has  a  round  dozen  of  nice  girls,  to  my  certain 
knowledge,  in  one  part  of  the  country  and  another,  all  at  his  dis- 
posal to  choose  from,  and  what  does  he  do  ?  He  sits  month  after 
month,  with  his  lazy  legs  crossed  before  him ;  he  leaves  the  girls  to 
pine  on  the  stem,  and  he  bothers  his  uncle  to  know  the  reason  why  ! 
I  pity  the  poor  unfortunate  women.  Men  were  made  of  flesh  and 
blood,  and  plenty  of  it  too,  in  my  time.  They're  made  of  machinery 
now." 

"  I  can  only  repeat,  sir,  I  am  sorry  to  have  offended  you,"  said 
George. 

"  Pooh  !  pooh  !  you  needn't  look  at  me  in  that  languishing  way 
if  you  are,"  retorted  the  admiral.  "  Stick  to  your  wine,  and  I'll 
forgive  you.  Your  good  health,  George.  I'm  glad  to  see  you  again 
at  St.  Crux.  Look  at  that  plateful  of  sponge-cakes  !  The  cook  has 
sent  them  up  in  honor  of  your  return.  We  can't  hurt  her  feelings, 
and  we  can't  spoil  our  wine.  Here  !" — The  admiral  tossed  four 
sponge-cakes  in  quick  succession  down  the  accommodating  throats 
of  the  dogs.  "  I  am  sorry,  George,"  the  old  gentleman  gravely  pro- 
ceeded ;  "  I  am  really  sorry  you  haven't  got  your  eye  on  one  of  those 
nice  girls.  You  don't  know  what  a  loss  you're  inflicting  on  your- 
self; you  don't  know  what  trouble  and  mortification  you're  causing 
me,  by  this  shilly-shally  conduct  of  yours." 

"  If  you  would  only  allow  me  to  explain  myself,  sir,  you  would 
view  my  conduct  in  a  totally  different  light.  I  am  ready  to  marry 
to-morrow,  if  the  lady  will  have  me." 


536  NO   NAME. 

"  The  devil  you  are  !  So  you  have  got  a  lady  in  your  eye,  after 
all  ?  Why  iu  Heaven's  name  couldn't  you  tell  me  so  before  ?  Nev- 
er mind,  I'll  forgive  you  every  thing,  now  I  know  you  have  laid 
your  hand  on  a  wife.  Fill  your  glass  again.  Here's  her  health  in 
a  bumper.     By-the-bye,  who  is  she  ?" 

"  I'll  tell  you  directly,  admiral.  When  we  began  this  conversa 
tion,  I  mentioned  that  I  was  a  little  anxious — " 

"  She's  not  one  of  my  round  dozen  of  nice  girls  —  aha,  Master 
George,  I  see  that  in  your  face  already !     Why  are  you  anxious  ?" 

"  I  am  afraid  you  will  disapprove  of  my  choice,  sir." 

"  Don't  beat  about  the  bush  !  How  the  deuce  can  I  say  whether 
I  disapprove  or  not,  if  you  won't  tell  me  who  she  is  ?" 

u  She  is  the  eldest  daughter  of  Andrew  Vanstone,  of  Combe-Ra- 
ven." 

11  Who  !  !  !" 

"  Miss  Vanstone,  sir." 

The  admiral  put  down  his  glass  of  wine  untasted. 

"  You're  right,  George,"  he  said.  "  I  do  disapprove  of  your  choice 
--strongly  disapprove  of  it." 

u  Is  it  the  misfortune  of  her  birth,  sir,  that  you  object  to?" 

"  God  forbid  !  the  misfortune  of  her  birth  is  not  her  fault,  poor 
tiling.     You  know  as  well  as  I  do,  George,  what  I  object  to." 

"  You  object  to  her  sister  ?" 

"  Certainly  !  The  most  liberal  man  alive  might  object  to  her  sis- 
ter, I- think." 

"  It's  hard,  sir,  to  make  Miss  Vanstone  suffer  for  her  sister's  faults  ' 

"  Faults,  do  you  call  them  ?  You  have  a  mighty  convenient  mem- 
ory, George,  when  your  own  interests  are  concerned." 

*'  Call  them  crimes  if  you  like,  sir — I  say  again,  it's  hard  on  Miss 
Vanstone.  Miss  Vanstone's  life  is  pure  of  all  reproach.  From  first 
to  last,  she  has  borne  her  hard  lot  with  such  patience,  and  sweetness, 
and  courage,  as  not  one  woman  in  a  thousand  would  have  shown  in 
her  place.  Ask  Miss  Garth,  who  has  known  her  from  childhood 
Ask  Mrs.  Tyrrel,  who  blesses  the  day  when  she  came  into  the  house — 

"Ask  a  fiddlestick's  end  !  I  beg  your  pardon,  George,  but  you  are 
enough  to  try  the  patience  of  a  saint.  My  good  fellow,  I  don't  deny 
Miss  Vanstone's  virtues.  I'll  admit,  if  you  like,  she's  the  best  wom- 
an that  ever  put  on  a  petticoat.     That  is  not  the  question — " 

"  Excuse  me,  admiral — it  is  the  question,  if  she  is  to  be  my  wife." 

"  Hear  me  out,  George ;  look  at  it  from  my  point  of  view,  as  wel1 
as  your  own.  What  did  your  cousin  Noel  do  ?  Your  cousin  Noel 
fell  a  victim,  poor  fellow,  to  one  of  the  vilest  conspiracies  I  ever 
heard  of,  and  the  prime  mover  of  that  conspiracy  was  Miss  Van- 
stone's damnable  sister.  She  deceived  him  in  the  most  infamous 
manner ;  and  as  soon  as  she  was  down  for  a  handsome  legacy  in  his 


NO   NAME.  537 

will,  she  had  (lie  poison  ready  to  take  his  life.  This  is  the  truth; 
we  know  il  iVom  Mrs.  Leeount,  who  found  the  bottle  locked  up  in 
her  own  room.  If  you  marry  Miss  Vanstone,  you  make  this  wretch 
your  sister-in-law.  She  becomes  a  member  of  our  family.  All  the 
disgrace  of  what  she  has  done ;  all  the  disgrace  of  what  she  may  do 
— and  the  Devil,  who  possesses  her,  only  knows  what  lengths  she 
may  go  to  next — becomes  our  disgrace.  Good  heavens,  George,  con- 
sider what  a  position  that  is !  Consider  what  pitch  you  touch,  if 
you  make  this  woman  your  sister-in-law." 

'.'  You  have  put  your  side  of  the  question,  admiral,"  said  George, 
resolutely ;  "  now  let  me  put  mine.  A  certain  impression  is  produced 
on  me  by  a  young  lady  whom  I  meet  with  under  very  interesting 
circumstances.  I  don't  act  headlong  on  that  impression,  as  I  might 
have  done  if  I  had  been  some  years  younger ;  I  wait,  and  put  it  to 
the  trial.  Every  time  I  see  this  young  lady,  the  impression  strength- 
ens ;  her  beauty  grows  on  me,  her  character  grows  on  me ;  when  I 
am  away  from  her,  I  am  restless  and  dissatisfied ;  when  I  am  with 
her,  I  am  the  happiest  man  alive.  All  I  hear  of  her  conduct  from 
those  who  know  her  best  more  than  confirms  the  high  opinion  I 
have  formed  of  her.  The  one  drawback  I  can  discover  is  caused  by 
a  misfortune  for  which  she  is  not  responsible — the  misfortune  of  hav- 
ing a  sister  who  is  utterly  unworthy  of  her.  Does  this  discovery — 
an  unpleasant  discovery,  I  grant  you — destroy  all  those  good  quali- 
ties in  Miss  Vanstone  for  which  I  love  and  admire  her  ?  Nothing 
of  the  sort — it  only  makes  her  good  qualities  all  the  more  precious 
to  me  by  contrast.  If  I  am  to  have  a  drawback  to  contend  with — 
and  who  expects  any  thing  else  in  this  world  ? — I  wrould  infinitely 
rather  have  the  drawback  attached  to  my  wife's  sister  than  to  my 
wife.  My  wife's  sister  is  not  essential  to  my  happiness,  but  my  wife 
is.  In  my  opinion,  sir,  Mrs.  Noel  Vanstone  has  done  mischief  enough 
already.  I  don't  see  the  necessity  of  letting  her  do  more  mischief, 
by  depriving  me  of  a  good  wife.  Right  or  wrong,  that  is  my  point 
of  view.  I  don't  wish  to  trouble  you  with  any  questions  of  senti- 
ment. All  I  wish  to  say  is  that  I  am  old  enough  by  this  time  to 
know  my  own  mind,  and  that  my  mind  is  made  up.  If  my  mar- 
riage is  essential  to  the  execution  of  your  intentions  on  my  behalf, 
there  is  only  one  woman  in  the  world  whom  I  can  marry,  and  that 
woman  is  Miss  Vanstone." 

There  was  no  resisting  this  plain  declaration.  Admiral  Bartram 
rose  from  his  chair  without  making  any  reply,  and  walked  perturb- 
edly  up  and  down  the  room. 

The  situation  was  emphatically  a  serious  one.  Mrs.  Girdlestone's 
death  had  already  produced  the  failure  of  one  of  the  two  objects 
contemplated  by  the  Secret  Trust.  If  the  third  of  May  arrived  and 
found  George  a  single  man,  the  second  (and  last)  of  the  objects 


538  NO   NAME. 

would  then  have  failed  in  its  turn.  In  little  more  than  a  fortnight, 
at  the  very  latest,  the  Banns  must  be  published  in  Ossory  church,  or 
the  time  would  fail  for  compliance  with  one  of  the  stipulations  in- 
sisted on  in  the  Trust.  Obstinate  as  the  admiral  was  by  nature, 
strongly  as  he  felt  the  objections  which  attached  to  his  nephew's 
contemplated  alliance,  he  recoiled  in  spite  of  himself,  as  he  paced 
the  room  and  saw  the  facts  on  either  side  immovably  staring  him  in 
the  face. 

"Are  you  engaged  to  Miss  Vanstone  ?"  he  asked,  suddenly. 

"  No,  sir,''  replied  George.  "  I  thought  it  due  to  your  uniform 
kindness  to  me  to  speak  to  you  on  the  subject  first." 

"  Much  obliged,  I'm  sure.  And  you  have  put  off  speaking  to  me 
to  the  last  moment,  just  as  you  put  off  every  thing  else.  Do  you 
think  Miss  Vanstone  will  say  yes  when  you  ask  her  ?" 

George  hesitated. 

"  The  devil  take  your  modesty  !"  shouted  the  admiral.  "  That  is 
not  a  time  for  modesty ;  this  is  a  time  for  speaking  out.  Will  she 
or  won't  she  ?" 

"  I  think  she  will,  sir." 

The  admiral  laughed  sardonically,  and  took  another  turn  in  the 
room.  He  suddenly  stopped,  put  his  hands  in  his  pockets,  and 
stood  still  in  a  corner,  deep  in  thought.  After  an  interval  of  a  few 
minutes,  his  face  cleared  a  little ;  it  brightened  with  the  dawning 
of  a  new  idea.  He  walked  round  briskly  to  George's  side  of  the 
fire,  and  laid  his  hand  kindly  on  his  nephew's  shoulder. 

"  You're  wrong,  George,"  he  said ;  "  but  it  is  too  late  now  to  set 
you  right.  On  the  sixteenth  of  next  month  the  Banns  must  be  put 
up  in  Ossory  church,  or  you  will  lose  the  money.  Have  you  told 
Miss  Vanstone  the  position  you  stand  in  ?  Or  have  you  put  that  off 
to  the  eleventh  hour,  like  every  thing  else  ?" 

"  The  position  is  so  extraordinary,  sir,  and  it  might  lead  to  so 
much  misapprehension  of  my  motives,  that  I  have  felt  unwilling  to 
allude  to  it.     I  hardly  know  how  I  can  tell  her  of  it  at  all." 

"  Try  the  experiment  of  telling  her  friends.  Let  them  know  it's 
a  question  of  money,  and  they  will  overcome  her  scruples,  if  you 
can't.  But  that  is  not  what  I  had  to  say  to  you.  How  long  do  you 
propose  stopping  here  this  time  ?" 

"  I  thought  of  staying  a  few  days,  and  then — " 

"And  then  of  going  back  to  London  and  making  your  offer,  I 
suppose?  Will  a  week  give  you  time  enough  to  pick  your  oppor- 
tunity with  Miss  Vanstone — a  week  out  of  the  fortnight  or  so  that 
you  have  to  spare  ?" 

"  I  will  stay  here  a  week,  admiral,  with  pleasure,  if  you  wish  it " 

"  I  don't  wish  it.  I  want  you  to  pack  up  your  traps,  and  be  off 
to-morrow." 


NO    NAME.  539 

George  looked  at  his  uncle  in  silent  astonishment. 

"You  found  some  letters  waiting  for  you  when  you  goi  here," 
proceeded  the  admiral.  "Was  one  of  those  letters  from  my  old 
friend.  Sir  Franklin  Brock  ?" 

"  Yes,  sir." 

"  Was  it  an  invitation  to  you  to  go  and  stay  at  the  Grange?" 

"  Yes,  sir." 

"  To  go  at  once  ?" 

"  At  once,  if  I  could  manage  it." 

"  Very  good.  I  want  you  to  manage  it ;  I  want  you  to  start  for 
the  Grange  to-morrow." 

George  looked  back  at  the  fire,  and  sighed  impatiently. 

"  I  understand  you  now,  admiral,"  he  said.  "  You  are  entirely 
mistaken  in  me.  My  attachment  to  Miss  Vanstone  is  not  to  be 
shaken  in  that  manner." 

Admiral  Bartram  took  his  quarter-deck  walk  again,  up  and  down 
the  room. 

"  One  good  turn  deserves  another,  George,"  said  the  old  gentle- 
man. "  If  I  am  willing  to  make  concessions  on  my  side,  the  least 
you  can  do  is  to  meet  me  half-way,  and  make  concessions  on  yours." 

"I  don't  deny  it,  sir." 

"Very  well.  Now  listen  to  my  proposal.  Give  me  a  fair  hear- 
ing, George — a  fair  hearing  is  every  man's  privilege.  I  will  be  per- 
fectly just  to  begin  with.  I  won't  attempt  to  deny  that  you  hon- 
estly believe  Miss  Vanstone  is  the  only  woman  in  the  world  who 
can  make  you  happy.  I  don't  question  that.  What  I  do  question 
is,  whether  you  really  know  your  own  mind  in  this  matter  quite  so 
well  as  you  think  you  know  it  yourself.  You  can't  deny,  George, 
that  you  have  been  in  love  with  a  good  many  women  in  your  time  ? 
Among  the  rest  of  them,  you  have  been  in  love  with  Miss  Brock 
No  longer  ago  than  this  time  last  year,  there  was  a  sneaking  kind- 
ness between  you  and  that  young  lady,  to  say  the  least  of  it.  And 
quite  right,  too  !  Miss  Brock  is  one  of  that  round  dozen  of  darlings 
I  mentioned  over  our  first  glass  of  wine." 

"  You  are  confusing  an  idle  flirtation,  sir,  with  a  serious  attach- 
ment," said  George.  "  You  are  altogether  mistaken — you  are,  in- 
deed." 

"  Likely  enough  ;  I  don't  pretend  to  be  infallible — I  leave  that  to 
my  juniors.  But  I  happen  to  have  known  you,  George,  since  you 
were  the  height  of  my  old  telescope ;  and  I  want  to  have  this  seri- 
ous attachment  of  yours  put  to  the  test.  If  you  can  satisfy  me  that 
your  whole  heart  and  soul  are  as  strongly  set  on  Miss  Vanstone  as 
you  suppose  them  to  be,  I  must  knock  under  to  necessity,  and  keep 
my  objections  to  myself.  But  I  must  be  satisfied  first.  Go  to  the 
Grange  to-morrow,  and  stay  there  a  week  in  Miss  Brock's  society. 


540  NO   NAME. 

Give  that  charming  girl  a  fair  chance  of  lighting  up  the  eld  $j»lr>r 
again  if  she  can,  and  then  come  back  to  St.  Crux,  and  let  me  heoy 
the  result.  If  you  tell  me,  as  an  honest  man,  that  your  attachment 
to  Miss  Vanstone  still  ren?ains  unshaken,  you  will  have  heard  the 
last  of  my  objections  from  that  moment.  Whatever  misgivings  I 
may  feel  in  my  own  mind,  I  will  say  nothing,  and  do  nothing,  ad- 
verse to  your  wishes.  There  is  my  proposal.  I  dare  say  it  looks 
like  an  old  man's  folly,  in  your  eyes.  But  the  old  man  won't  trou- 
ble you  much  longer,  George ;  and  it  may  be  a  pleasant  reflection, 
when  you  have  got  sons  of  your  own,  to  remember  that  you  humored 
him  in  his  last  days." 

He  came  back  to  the  fire-place  as  he  said  those  words,  and  laid 
his  hand  once  more  on  his  nephew's  shoulder.  George  took  the 
hand  and  pressed  it  affectionately.  In  the  tenderest  and  best  sense 
of  the  word,  his  uncle  had  been  a  father  to  him. 

"I  will  do  what  you  ask  me,  sir,"  he  replied,  "if  you  seriously 
wish  it.  But  it  is  only  right  to  tell  you  that  the  experiment  will  be 
perfectly  useless.  However,  if  you  prefer  my  passing  a  week  at  the 
Grange  to  my  passing  it  here,  to  the  Grange  I  will  go." 

"  Thank  you,  George,"  said  the  admiral,  bluntly.  "  I  expected  as 
much  from  you,  and  you  have  not  disappointed  me.  If  Miss  Brock 
doesn't  get  us  out  of  this  mess,"  thought  the  wily  old  gentleman,  as 
he  resumed  his  place  at  the  table,  "  my  nephew's  weather-cock  of  a 
head  has  turned  steady  with  a  vengeance  !  We'll  consider  the  ques- 
tion settled  for  to-night,  George,"  he  continued  aloud,  "  and  call  an- 
other subject.  These  family  anxieties  don't  improve  the  flavor  of 
my  old  claret.  The  bottle  stands  with  you.  What  are  they  doing 
at  the  theatres  in  London  ?  We  always  patronized  the  theatres,  in 
my  time,  in  the  Navy.  We  used  to  like  a  good  tragedy  to  begin 
with,  and  a  hornpipe  to  cheer  us  up  at  the  end  of  the  entertain- 
ment." 

For  the  rest  of  the  evening,  the  talk  flowed  in  the  ordinary  chan- 
nels. Admiral  Bartram  only  returned  to  the  forbidden  subject 
when  he  and  his  nephew  parted  for  the  night. 

"  You  won't  forget  to-morrow,  George  ?" 

"  Certainly  not,  sir.  I'll  take  the  dog-cart,  and  drive  myself  over 
after  breakfast." 

Before  noon  the  next  day  Mr.  George  Bartram  had  left  the  house, 
aud  the  last  chance  in  Magdalen's  favor  had  left  it  with  him. 


NO   NAME.  541 


CHAPTER  IV. 

When  the  servants'  dinner-bell  at  St.  Crux  rang  as  usual  on  the 
day  of  George  Bartram's  departure,  it  was  remarked  that  the  new 
parlor  -  maid's  place  at  table  remained  empty.  One  of  the  infe- 
rior servants  was  sent  to  her  room  to  make  inquiries,  and  returned 
with  the  information  that  "  Louisa  "  felt  a  little  faint,  and  begged 
that  her  attendance  at  table  might  be  excused  for  that  day.  Upon 
this,  the  superior  authority  of  the  housekeeper  was  invoked,  and 
Mrs.  Drake  went  up  stairs  immediately  to  ascertain  the  truth  for 
herself.  Her  first  look  of  inquiry  satisfied  her  that  the  parlor-maid's 
indisposition,  whatever  the  cause  of  it  might  be,  was  certainly  not 
assumed  to  serve  any  idle  or  sullen  purpose  of  her  own.  She  re- 
spectfully declined  taking  any  of  the  remedies  which  the  housekeep- 
er offered,  and  merely  requested  permission  to  try  the  efficacy  of  a 
walk  in  the  fresh  air. 

"  I  have  been  accustomed  to  more  exercise,  ma'am,  than  I  take 
here,"  she  said.  "  Might  I  go  into  the  garden,  and  try  what  the  air 
will  do  for  me  ?" 

"  Certainly.  Can  you  walk  by  yourself,  or  shall  I  send  some  one 
with  you  ?" 

"  I  will  go  by  myself,  if  you  please,  ma'am." 

"  Very  well.  Put  on  your  bonnet  and  shawl,  and,  when  you  get 
out,  keep  in  the  east  garden.  The  admiral  sometimes  walks  in  the 
north  garden,  and  he  might  feel  surprised  at  seeing  you  there. 
Come  to  my  room,  when  you  have  had  air  and  exercise  enough,  and 
let  me  see  how  you  are." 

In  a  few  minutes  more  Magdalen  was  out  in  the  east  garden.  The 
sky  was  clear  and  sunny  ;  but  the  cold  shadow  of  the  house  rested 
on  the  garden  walk  and  chilled  the  midday  air.  She  walked  to- 
ward the  ruins  of  the  old  monastery,  situated  on  the  south  side  of 
the  more  modem  range  of  buildings.  Here  there  were  lonely  open 
spaces  to  breathe  in  freely ;  here  the  pale  March  sunshine  stole 
through  the  gaps  of  desolation  and  decay,  and  met  her  invitingly 
with  the  genial  promise  of  spring. 

She  ascended  three  or  four  riven  stone  steps,  and  seated  herself 
on  some  ruined  fragments  beyond  them,  full  in  the  sunshine.  The 
place  she  had  chosen  had  once  been  the  entrance  to  the  church.  In 
centuries  long  gone  by,  the  stream  of  human  sin  and  human  suffer- 
ing had  flowed,  day  after  day,  to  the  confessional,  over  the  place 


542  NO    NAME. 

where  she  now  sat.  Of  all  the  miserable  women  who  had  trodden 
those  old  stones  in  the  by-gone  time,  no  more  miserable  creature 
had  touched  them  than  the  woman  whose  feet  rested  on  them  now. 

Her  hands  trembled  as  she  placed  them  on  either  side  of  her,  to 
support  herself  on  the  stone  seat.  She  laid  them  on  her  lap ;  they 
trembled  there.  She  held  them  out,  and  looked  at  them  wonder- 
ingly ;  they  trembled  as  she  looked.  "  Like  an  old  woman  !"  she 
said,  faintly,  and  let  them  drop  again  at  her  side. 

For  the  first  time,  that  morning,  the  cruel  discovery  had  forced 
itself  on  her  mind — the  discovery  that  her  strength  was  failing  her, 
at  the  time  when  she  had  most  confidently  trusted  to  it,  at  the  time 
when  she  wanted  it  most.  She  had  felt  the  surprise  of  Mr.  Bartram's 
unexpected  departure,  as  if  it  had  been  the  shock  of  the  severest  ca- 
lamity that  could  have  befallen  her.  That  one  check  to  her  hopes — 
a  check  which  at  other  times  would  only  have  roused  the  resisting 
power  in  her  to  new  efforts — had  struck  her  with  as  suffocating  a 
terror,  had  prostrated  her  with  as  all-mastering  a  despair,  as  if  she 
had  been  overwhelmed  by  the  crowning  disaster  of  expulsion  from 
St.  Crux.  But  one  warning  could  be  read  in  such  a  change  as  this. 
Into  the  space  of  little  more  than  a  year  she  had  crowded  the  wear- 
ing and  wasting  emotions  of  a  life.  The  bountiful  gifts  of  health 
and  strength,  so  prodigally  heaped  on  her  by  Nature,  so  long  abused 
with  impunity,  were  failing  her  at  last. 

She  looked  up  at  the  far  faint  blue  of  the  sky.  She  heard  the 
joyous  singing  of  birds  among  the  ivy  that  clothed  the  ruins.  Ob 
the  cold  distance  of  the  heavens  !  Oh  the  pitiless  happiness  of  the 
birds  !  Oh  the  lonely  horror  of  sitting  there,  and  feeling  old  and 
weak  and  worn,  in  the  heyday  of  her  youth  !  She  rose  with  a  last 
effort  of  resolution,  and  tried  to  keep  back  the  hysterical  passion 
swelling  at  her  heart  by  moving  and  looking  about  her.  Rapidly 
and  more  rapidly  she  walked  to  and  fro  in  the  sunshine.  The  ex- 
ercise helped  her,  through  the  very  fatigue  that  she  felt  from  it. 
She  forced  the  rising  tears  desperately  back  to  their  sources ;  she 
fought  with  the  clinging  pain,  and  wrenched  it  from  its  hold.  Lit- 
tle by  little  her  mind  began  to  clear  again :  the  despairing  fear  of 
herself  grew  less  vividly  present  to  her  thoughts.  There  were  re- 
serves of  youth  and  strength  in  her  still  to  be  wasted ;  there  was  a 
spirit  sorely  wounded,  but  not  yet  subdued. 

She  gradually  extended  the  limits  of  her  walk;  she  gradually  re- 
covered the  exercise  of  her  observation. 

At  the  western  extremity  the  remains  of  the  monastery  were  in.  a 
less  ruinous  condition  than  at  the  eastern.  In  certain  places,  where 
the  stout  old  walls  still  stood,  repairs  had  been  made  at  some  ter- 
mer time.  Roofs  of  red  tile  had  been  laid  roughly  over  four  of  the 
ancient  cells ;  wooden  doors  had  been  added  ;  and  the  old  monas- 


NO    NAME.  543 

tic  chambers  had  been  used  as  sheds  to  hold  the  multifarious  lum- 
ber of  St.  Crux.  No  padlocks  guarded  any  of  the  doors.  Magda- 
len had  only  to  push  them  to  let  the  daylight  in  on  the  litter  inside. 
She  resolved  to  investigate  the  sheds  one  after  the  other — not  from 
curiosity,  not  with  the  idea  of  making  discoveries  of  any  sort.  Her 
only  object  was  to  fill  up  the  vacant  time,  and  to  keep  the  thoughts 
that  unnerved  her  from  returning  to  her  mind. 

The  first  shed  she  opened  contained  the  gardener's  utensils,  large 
and  small.  The  second  was  littered  with  fragments  of  broken  fur- 
niture, empty  picture-frames  of  worm-eaten  wood,  shattered  vases, 
boxes  without  covers,  and  books  torn  from  their  bindings.  As 
Magdalen  turned  to  leave  the  shed,  after  one  careless  glance  round 
her  at  the  lumber  that  it  contained,  her  foot  struck  something  on 
the  ground  which  tinkled  against  a  fragment  of  china  lying  near  it. 
She  stooped,  and  discovered  that  the  tinkling  substance  was  a  rusty 
key. 

She  picked  up  the  key  and  looked  at  it.  She  walked  out  into 
the  air,  and  considered  a  little.  More  old  forgotten  keys  were  prob- 
ably lying  about  among  the  lumber  in  the  sheds.  What  if  she  col- 
lected all  she  could  find,  and  tried  them,  one  after  another,  in  the 
locks  of  the  cabinets  and  cupboards  now  closed  against  her  ?  Was 
there  chance  enough  that  any  one  of  them  might  fit,  to  justify  her 
in  venturing  on  the  experiment  ?  If  the  locks  at  St.  Crux  were  as 
old-fashioned  as  the  furniture — if  there  were  no  protective  niceties 
of  modern  invention  to  contend  against — there  was  chance  enough 
beyond  all  question.  Who  could  say  whether  the  very  key  in  her 
hand  might  not  be  the  lost  duplicate  of  one  of  the  keys  on  the 
admiral's  bunch  ?  In  the  dearth  of  all  other  means  of  finding  the 
way  to  her  end,  the  risk  was  worth  running.  A  flash  of  the  old 
spirit  sparkled  in  her  weary  eyes  as  she  turned  and  re-entered  the 
shed. 

Half  an  hour  more  brought  her  to  the  limits  of  the  time  which 
she  could  venture  to  allow  herself  in  the  open  air.  In  that  interval 
she  had  searched  the  sheds  from  first  to  last,  and  had  found  five 
more  keys.  "  Five  more  chances !"  she  thought  to  herself,  as  she 
hid  the  keys,  and  hastily  returned  to  the  house. 

After  first  reporting  herself  in  the  housekeeper's  room,  she  went 
up  stairs  to  remove  her  bonnet  and  shawl ;  taking  that  opportunity 
to  hide  the  keys  in  her  bed-chamber,  until  night  came.  They  were 
crusted  thick  with  rust  and  dirt ;  but  she  dared  not  attempt  to  clean 
them,  until  bed-time  secluded  her  from  the  prying  eyes  of  the  serv- 
ants in  the  solitude  of  her  room. 

When  the  dinner  hour  brought  her,  as  usual,  into  personal  con- 
tact with  the  admiral,  she  was  at  once  struck  by  a  change  in  him. 
For  the  first  time  in  her  experience  the  old  gentleman  was  silent 


514  NO    NAME. 

aftd  depressed.  He  ate  less  than  usual,  and  he  hardly  said  five 
words  to  her  from  the  beginning  of  the  meal  to  the  end.  Some  an 
welcome  subject  of  reflection  had  evidently  fixed  itself  on  his  mind, 
and  remained  there  persistently,  in  spite  of  his  efforts  to  shake  it 
off.  At  intervals  through  the  evening,  she  wondered  with  an  ever- 
growing perplexity  what  the  subject  could  be. 

At  last  the  lagging  hours  reached  their  end,  and  bed-time  came. 
Before  she  slept  that  night,  Magdalen  had  cleaned  the  keys  from 
all  impurities,  and  had  oiled  the  wards,  to  help  them  smoothly  into 
the  locks.  The  last  difficulty  that  remained  was  the  difficulty  of 
choosing  the  time  when  the  experiment  might  be  tried  with  the 
least  risk  of  interruption  and  discovery.  After  carefully  consider- 
ing the  question  overnight,  Magdalen  coidd  only  resolve  to  wait 
and  be  guided  by  the  events  of  the  next  day. 

The  morning  came,  and  for  the  first  time  at  St.  Crux  events  jus- 
tified the  trust  she  had  placed  in  them.  The  morning  came,  and 
the  one  remaining  difficulty  that  perplexed  her  was  unexpectedly 
smoothed  away  by  no  less  a  person  than  the  admiral  himself!  To 
the  surprise  of  every  one  in  the  house,  he  announced  at  breakfast 
that  he  had  arranged  to  start  for  London  in  an  hour;  that  he  should 
pass  the  night  in  town ;  and  that  he  might  be  expected  to  return 
to  St.  Crux  in  time  for  dinner  on  the  next  day.  He  volunteered  no 
further  explanations  to  the  housekeeper  or  to  any  one  else,  but  it 
was  easy  to  see  that  his  errand  to  London  was  of  no  ordinary  im- 
portance in  his  own  estimation.  He  swallowed  his  breakfast  in  a 
violent  hurry,  and  he  was  impatiently  ready  for  the  carriage  before 
it  came  to  the  door. 

Experience  had  taught  Magdalen  to  be  cautious.  She  waited  a 
little,  after  Admiral  Bartram's  departure,  before  she  ventured  on  try- 
ing her  experiment  with  the  keys.  It  was  well  she  did  so.  Mrs. 
Drake  took  advantage  of  the  admiral's  absence  to  review  the  condi- 
tion of  the  apartments  on  the  first  floor.  The  results  of  the  investi- 
gation by  no  means  satisfied  her;  brooms  and  dusters  were  set  to 
work ;  and  the  house-maids  were  in  and  out  of  the  rooms  perpetu- 
ally, as  long  as  the  daylight  lasted. 

The  evening  passed,  and  still  the  safe  opportunity  for  which  Mag- 
dalen was  on  the  watch  never  presented  itself.  Bed -time  came 
again,  and  found  her  placed  between  the  two  alternatives  of  trust- 
ing to  the  doubtful  chances  of  the  next  morning,  or  of  trying  the 
keys  boldly  in  the  dead  of  night.  In  former  times  she  would  have 
made  her  choice  without  hesitation.  She  hesitated  now;  but  the 
wreck  of  her  old  courage  still  sustained  her,  and  she  determined  to 
make  the  venture  at  night. 

They  kept  early  hours  at  St.  Crux.  If  she  waited  in  her  room  un- 
til half-past  eleven,  she  would  wait  long  enough.     At  that  time  she 


NO    NAME.  545 

stole  out  on  to  the  staircase,  with  the  keys  in  her  pocket,  and  the 
candle  in  her  hand. 

On  passing  the  entrance  to  the  corridor  on  the  bed-room  floor,  she 
stopped  and  listened.  No  sound  of  snoring,  no  shuffling  of  infirm 
footsteps,  was  to  be  heard  on  the  other  side  of  the  screen.  She  looked 
round  it  distrustfully.  The  stone  passage  was  a  solitude,  and  the 
truckle-bed  was  empty.  Her  own  eyes  had  shown  her  old  Mazey 
on  his  way  to  the  upper  regions,  more  than  an  hour  since,  with  a 
candle  in  his  hand.  Had  he  taken  advantage  of  his  master's  ab- 
sence, to  enjoy  the  unaccustomed  luxury  of  sleeping  in  a  room  ?  As 
the  thought  occurred  to  her,  a  sound  from  the  further  end  of  the 
corridor  just  caught  her  ear.  She  softly  advanced  toward  it,  and 
heard  through  the  door  of  the  last  and  remotest  of  the  spare  bed- 
chambers the  veteran's  lusty  snoring  in  the  room  inside.  The  dis- 
covery was  startling,  in  more  senses  than  one.  It  deepened  the  im- 
penetrable mystery  of  the  truckle-bed ;  for  it  showed  plainly  that 
old  Mazey  had  no  barbarous  preference  of  his  own  for  passing  his 
nights  in  the  corridor;  he  occupied  that  strange  and  comfortless 
sleeping-place  purely  and  entirely  on  his  master's  account. 

It  was  no  time  for  dwelling  on  the  reflections  which  this  conclu- 
sion might  suggest.  Magdalen  retraced  her  steps  along  the  passage, 
and  descended  to  the  first  floor.  Passing  the  doors  nearest  to  her, 
she  tried  the  library  first.  On  the  staircase  and  in  the  corridors  she 
had  felt  her  heart  throbbing  fast  with  an  unutterable  fear;  but  a 
sense  of  security  returned  to  her  when  she  found  herself  within  the 
four  walls  of  the  room,  and  when  she  had  closed  the  door  on  the 
ghostly  quiet  outside. 

The  first  lock  she  tried  was  the  lock  of  the  table-drawer.  None 
of  the  keys  fitted  it.  Her  next  experiment  was  made  on  the  cabinet. 
Would  the  second  attempt  fail,  like  the  first  ? 

No  !  One  of  the  keys  fitted  ;  one  of  the  keys,  with  a  little  patient 
management,  turned  the  lock.  She  looked  in  eagerly.  There  were 
open  shelves  above,  and  one  long  drawer  under  them.  The  shelves 
were  devoted  to  specimens  of  curious  minerals,  neatly  labeled  and 
arranged.  The  drawer  was  divided  into  compartments.  Two  of 
the  compartments  contained  papers.  In  the  first,  she  discovered 
nothing  but  a  collection  of  receipted  bills.  In  the  second,  she  found 
a  heap  of  business  documents ;  but  the  writing,  yellow  with  age,  was 
enough  of  itself  to  warn  her  that  the  Trust  was  not  there.  She  shut 
the  doors  of  the  cabinet,  and,  after  locking  them  again  with  some 
little  difficulty,  proceeded  to  try  the  keys  in  the  book-case  cupboards 
next,  before  she  continued  her  investigations  in  the  other  rooms. 

The  book-case  cupboards  were  unassailable ;  the  drawers  and  cup- 
boards in  all  the  other  rooms  were  unassailable.  One  after  another 
she  tried  them  patiently  in  regular  succession.    It  was  useless.    The 


546  NO   NAME. 

chance  which  the  cabinet  in  the  library  had  offered  in  her  favor  was 
the  first  chance  and  the  last. 

She  went  back  to  her  room,  seeing  nothing  but  her  own  gliding 
shadow,  hearing  nothing  but  her  own  stealthy  footfall  in  the  mid- 
night stillness  of  the  house.  After  mechanically  putting  the  keys 
away  in  their  former  hiding-place,  she  looked  toward  her  bed,  and 
turned  away  from  it,  shuddering.  The  warning  remembrance  of 
what  she  had  suffered  that  morning  in  the  garden  was  vividly  pres- 
ent to  her  mind.  "Another  chance  tried,"  she  thought  to  herself, 
"  and  another  chance  lost !  I  shall  break  down  again  if  I  think  of 
it;  and  I  shall  think  of  it  if  I  lie  awake  in  the  dark."  She  had 
brought  a  work-box  with  her  to  St.  Crux,  as  one  of  the  many  little 
things  which  in  her  character  of  a  servant  it  was  desirable  to  pos- 
sess ;  and  she  now  opened  the  box,  and  applied  herself  resolutely  to 
work.  Her  want  of  dexterity  with  her  needle  assisted  the  object 
she  had  in  view ;  it  obliged  her  to  pay  the  closest  attention  to  her 
employment ;  it  forced  her  thoughts  away  from  the  two  subjects  of 
all  others  which  she  now  dreaded  most — herself  and  the  future. 

The  next  day,  as  he  had  arranged,  the  admiral  returned.  His  vis- 
it to  London  had  not  improved  his  spirits.  Thg  shadow  of  some 
unconquerable  doubt  still  clouded  his  face ;  his  restless  tongue  was 
strangely  quiet,  while  Magdalen  waited  on  him  at  his  solitary  meal. 
That  night  the  snoring  resounded  once  more  on  the  inner  side  of  the 
screen,  and  old  Mazey  was  back  again  in  the  comfortless  truckle-bed. 

Three  more  days  passed — April  came.  On  the  second  of  the 
month — returning  as  unexpectedly  as  he  had  departed  a  week  be- 
fore— Mr.  George  Bartram  re-appeared  at  St.  Crux. 

He  came  back  early  in  the  afternoon,  and  had  an  interview  with 
his  uncle  in  the  library.  The  interview  over,  he  left  the  house 
again,  and  was  driven  to  the  railway  by  the  groom  in  time  to  catch 
the  last  train  to  London  that  night.  The  groom  noticed,  on  the 
road,  that  "  Mr.  George  seemed  to  be  rather  pleased  than  otherwise 
at  leaving  St.  Crux."  He  also  remarked,  on  his  return,  that  the  ad- 
miral swore  at  him  for  overdriving  the  horses — an  indication  of  ill- 
temper,  on  the  part  of  his  master,  which  he  described  as  being  en- 
tirely without  precedent  in  all  his  former  experience.  Magdalen, 
in  her  department  of  service,  had  suffered  in  like  manner  under  the 
old  man's  irritable  humor :  he  had  been  dissatisfied  with  every  thing 
she  did  in  the  dining-room;  and  he  had  found  fault  with  all  the 
dishes,  one  after  another,  from  the  mutton-broth  to  the  toasted 
cheese. 

The  next  two  days  passed  as  usual.  On  the  third  day  an  event 
happened.  In  appearance,  it  was  nothing  more  important  than  a 
ring  at  the  drawing-room  bell.  In  reality,  it  was  the  forerunner  ot 
approaching  catastrophe — the  formidable  herald  of  the  end. 


NO   NAME.  547 

It  was  Magdalen's  business  to  answer  the  bell.  On  reaching  the 
drawing-room  door,  she  knocked  as  usual.  There  was  no  reply. 
After  again  knocking,  and  again  receiving  no  answer,  she  ventured 
into  the  room,  and  was  instantly  met  by  a  current  of  cold  air  flow- 
ing full  on  her  face.  The  heavy  sliding  door  in  the  opposite  wall 
was  pushed  back,  and  the  Arctic  atmosphere  of  Freeze-your-Bones 
was  pouring  unhindered  into  the  empty  room. 

She  waited  near  the  door,  doubtful  what  to  do  next;  it  was  cer- 
tainly the  drawing-room  bell  that  had  rung,  and  no  other.  She 
waited,  looking  through  the  open  door-way  opposite,  down  the 
wilderness  of  the  dismantled  Hall. 

A  little  consideration  satisfied  her  that  it  would  be  best  to  go 
down  stairs  again,  and  wait  there  for  a  second  summons  from  the 
bell.  On  turning  to  leave  the  room,  she  happened  to  look  back 
once  more,  and  exactly  at  that  moment  she  saw  the  door  open  at 
the  opposite  extremity  of  the  Banqueting-hall — the  door  leading 
into  the  first  of  the  apartments  in  the  east  wing.  A  tall  man  came 
out,  wearing  his  greatcoat  and  his  hat,  and  rapidly  approached  the 
drawing-room.  His  gait  betrayed  him,  while  he  was  still  too  far 
off  for  his  features  to  be  seen.  Before  he  was  quite  half-way  across 
the  Hall,  Magdalen  had  recognized — the  admiral. 

He  looked,  not  irritated  only,  but  surprised  as  well,  at  finding  his 
parlor-maid  waiting  for  him  in  the  drawing-room,  and  inquired, 
sharply  and  suspiciously,  what  she  wanted  there?  Magdalen  re- 
plied that  she  had  come  there  to  answer  the  bell.  His  face  cleared 
a  little  when  he  heard  the  explanation.  "  Yes,  yes ;  to  be  sure,"  he 
said.  "I  did  ring,  and  then  I  forgot  it."  He  pulled  the  sliding 
door  back  into  its  place  as  he  spoke.  "  Coals,"  he  resumed,  impa- 
tiently, pointing  to  the  empty  scuttle.     "  I  rang  for  coals." 

Magdalen  went  back  to  the  kitchen  regions.  After  communica- 
ting the  admiral's  order  to  the  servant  whose  special  duty  it  was  to 
attend  co  the  fires,  she  returned  to  the  pantry,  and,  gently  closing 
the  door,  sat  down  alone  to  think. 

It  had  been  her  impression  in  the  drawing-room — and  it  was  her 
impression  still — that  she  had  accidentally  surprised  Admiral  Bar- 
tram  on  a  visit  to  the  east  rooms,  which,  for  some  urgent  reason  of 
his  own,  he  wished  to  keep  a  secret.  Haunted  day  and  night  by 
the  one  dominant  idea  that  now  possessed  her,  she  leaped  all  logical 
difficulties  at  a  bound,  and  at  once  associated  the  suspicion  of  a  se- 
cret proceeding  on  the  admiral's  part  with  the  kindred  suspicion 
which  pointed  to  him  as  the  depositary  of  the  Secret  Trust.  Up  to 
this  time  it  had  been  her  settled  belief  that  he  kept  all  his  impor- 
tant documents  in  one  or  other  of  the  suite  of  rooms  which  he  hap- 
pened to  be  occupying  for  the  time  being.  Why — she  now  asked 
herself,  with  a  sudden  distrust  of  the  conclusion  which  had  hitherto 


548  NO    NAME. 

satisfied  her  mind — why  might  he  not  lock  some  of  them  up  in  the 
other  rooms  as  well  ?  The  remembrance  of  the  keys  still  concealed 
in  their  hiding-place  in  her  room  sharpened  her  sense  of  the  rea- 
sonableness of  this  new  view.  "With  one  unimportant  exception, 
those  keys  had  all  failed  when  she  tried  them  in  the  rooms  on  the 
north  side  of  the  house.  Might  they  not  succeed  with  the  cabinets 
and  cupboards  in  the  east  rooms,  on  which  she  had  never  tried 
them,  or  thought  of  trying  them,  yet  ?  If  there  was  a  chance,  how- 
ever small,  of  turning  them  to  better  account  than  she  had  turned 
them  thus  far,  it  was  a  chance  to  be  tried.  If  there  was  a  possibili- 
ty, however  remote,  that  the  Trust  might  be  hidden  in  any  one  of 
the  locked  repositories  in  the  east  wing,  it  was  a  possibility  to  be 
put  to  the  test.  When  ?  Her  own  experience  answered  the  ques- 
tion. At  the  time  when  no  prying  eyes  were  open,  and  no  acci- 
dents were  to  be  feared— when  the  house  was  quiet — in  the  dead 
of  night. 

She  knew  enough  of  her  changed  self  to  dread  the  enervating  in- 
fluence of  delay.    She  determined  to  run  the  risk  headlong  that  night. 

More  blunders  escaped  her  when  dinner-time  came ;  the  admi- 
ral's criticisms  on  her  waiting  at  table  were  sharper  than  ever.  His 
hardest  words  inflicted  no  pain  on  her;  she  scarcely  heard  him — 
her  mind  was  dull  to  every  sense  but  the  sense  of  the  coming  trial. 
The  evening  which  had  passed  slowly  to  her  on  the  night  of  her 
first  experiment  with  the  keys  passed  quickly  now.  When  bed- 
time came,  bed-time  took  her  by  surprise. 

She  waited  longer  on  this  occasion  than  she  had  waited  before. 
The  admiral  was  at  home ;  he  might  alter  his  mind  and  go  down 
stairs  again,  after  he  had  gone  up  to  his  room ;  he  might  have  for- 
gotten something  in  the  library,  and  might  return  to  fetch  it.  Mid- 
night struck  from  the  clock  in  the  servants'  hall  before  she  ven- 
tured  out  of  her  room,  with  the  keys  again  in  her  pocket,  with  the 
candle  again  in  her  hand. 

At  the  first  of  the  stairs  on  which  she  set  her  foot  to  descend,  an 
all-mastering  hesitation,  an  unintelligible  shrinking  from  some  peril 
unknown,  seized  her  on  a  sudden.  She  waited,  and  reasoned  with 
herself.  She  had  recoiled  from  no  sacrifices,  she  had  yielded  to  no 
fears,  in  carrying  out  the  stratagem  by  which  she  had  gained  admis- 
sion to  St.  Crux  ;  and  now,  when  the  long  array  of  difficulties  at  the 
outset  had  been  patiently  conquered,  now,  when  by  sheer  force  of 
resolution  the  starting-point  was  gained,  she  hesitated  to  advance. 
"  I  shrank  from  nothing  to  get  here,"  she  said  to  herself  "  What 
madness  possesses  me  that  I  shrink  now  ?" 

Every  pulse  in  her  quickened  at  the  thought,  with  an  animating 
shame  that  nerved  her  to  go  on.  She  descended  the  stairs,  from  the 
third  floor  to  the  second,  from  the  second  to  the  first,  without  trust- 


NO    NAME.  549 

ing  herself  to  pause  again  within  easy  reach  of  her  own  room.  In 
anot  her  minute,  she  bad  reached  the  end  of  the  corridor,  had  crossed 
the  vestibule,  and  had  entered  the  drawing-room.  It  was  only  when 
her  grasp  was  on  the  heavy  brass  handle  of  the  sliding  door — it  was 
only  at  the  moment  before  she  pushed  the  door  back — that  she  wait- 
ed to  take  breath.  The  Banqueting-hall  was  close  on  the  other 
side  of  the  wooden  partition  against  which  she  stood  ;  her  excited 
imagination  felt  the  deathdike  chill  of  it  flowing  over  her  already. 

She  pushed  back  the  sliding  door  a  few  inches — and  stopped  in 
momentary  alarm.  When  the  admiral  had  closed  it  in  her  presence 
that  day,  she  had  heard  no  noise.  When  old  Mazey  had  opened  it 
to  show  her  the  rooms  in  the  east  wing,  she  had  heard  no  noise. 
Now,  in  the  night  silence,  she  noticed  for  the  first  time  that  the 
door  made  a  sound — a  dull,  rushing  sound,  like  the  wind. 

She  roused  herself,  and  pushed  it  farther  back — pushed  it  half- 
way into  the  hollow  chamber  in  the  wall  constructed  to  receive  it. 
She  advanced  boldly  into  the  gap,  and  met  the  night  view  of  the 
Banqueting-hall  face  to  face. 

The  moon  was  rounding  the  southern  side  of  the  house.  Her 
paling  beams  streamed  through  the  nearer  windows,  and  lay  in  long 
strips  of  slanting  light  on  the  marble  pavement  of  the  Hall.  The 
black  shadows  of  the  pediments  between  each  window,  alternating 
with  the  strips  of  light,  heightened  the  wan  glare  of  the  moonshine 
on  the  floor.  Toward  its  lower  end,  the  Hall  melted  mysteriously 
into  darkness.  The  ceiling  was  lost  to  view  ;  the  yawning  fire-place, 
the  overhanging  mantel  piece,  the  long  row  of  battle  pictures  above, 
were  all  swallowTed  up  in  night.  But  one  visible  object  was  dis- 
cernible, besides  the  gleaming  windows  and  the  moon-striped  floor. 
Midway  in  the  last  and  farthest  of  the  strips  of  light,  the  tripod  rose 
erect  on  its  gaunt  black  legs,  like  a  monster  called  to  life  by  the 
moon — a  monster  rising  through  the  light,  and  melting  invisibly 
into  the  upper  shadows  of  the  Hall.  Far  and  near,  all  sound  lay 
dead,  drowned  in  the  stagnant  cold.  The  soothing  hush  of  night 
was  awful  here.  The  deep  abysses  of  darkness  hid  abysses  of  si- 
lence more  immeasurable  still. 

She  stood  motionless  in  the  door-way,  with  straining  eyes,  with 
straining  ears.  She  looked  for  some  moving  thing,  she  listened  for 
some  rising  sound,  and  looked  and  listened  in  vain.  A  quick  cease- 
less shivering  ran  through  her  from  head  to  foot.  The  shivering 
of  fear,  or  the  shivering  of  cold  ?  The  bare  doubt  roused  her  reso- 
lute will.  "  Now,"  she  thought,  advancing  a  step  through  the  door- 
way, "  or  never !  I'll  count  the  strips  of  moonlight  three  times  over, 
and  cross  the  Hall." 

"  One,  two,  three,  four,  five.  One,  two,  three,  four,  five.  One,  two, 
three,  four,  five." 


550  NO   NAME. 

As  the  final  number  passed  her  lips  at  the  third  time  of  counting, 
she  crossed  the  Hall.  Looking  for  nothing,  listening  for  nothing, 
one  hand  holding  the  candle,  the  other  mechanically  grasping  the 
folds  of  her  dress,  she  sped,  ghost-like,  down  the  length  of  tbe  ghost- 
ly place.  She  reached  the  door  of  the  first  of  the  eastern  rooms, 
opened  it,  and  ran  in.  The  sudden  relief  of  attaining  a  refuge,  the 
sudden  entrance  into  a  new  atmosphere,  overpowered  her  for  the  mo- 
ment. She  had  just  time  to  put  the  candle  safely  on  a  table  before 
she  dropped  giddy  and  breathless  into  the  nearest  chair. 

Little  by  little  she  felt  the  rest  quieting  her.  In  a  few  minutes 
she  became  conscious  of  the  triumph  of  having  won  her  way  to  the 
east  rooms.  In  a  few  minutes  she  was  strong  enough  to  rise  from 
the  chair,  to  take  the  keys  from  her  pocket,  and  to  look  round  her. 

The  first  objects  of  furniture  in  the  room  which  attracted  her  at- 
tention were  an  old  bureau  of  carved  oak,  and  a  heavy  buhl  table 
with  a  cabinet  attached.  She  tried  the  bureau  first:  it  looked  the 
likeliest  receptacle  for  papers  of  the  two.  Three  of  the  keys  proved 
to  be  of  a  size  to  enter  the  lock,  but  none  of  them  would  turn  it. 
The  bureau  was  unassailable.  She  left  it,  and  paused  to  trim  the 
wick  of  the  candle  before  she  tried  the  buhl  cabinet  next. 

At  the  moment  when  she  raised  her  hand  to  the  candle,  she  heard 
the  stillness  of  the  Banqueting-hall  shudder  with  the  terror  of  a 
sound — a  sound  faint  and  momentary,  like  the  distant  rushing  of 
the  wind. 

The  sliding  door  in  the  drawing-room  had  moved. 

Which  way  had  it  moved  ?  Had  an  unknown  hand  pushed  it 
back  in  its  socket  farther  than  she  had  pushed  it,  or  pulled  it  to 
again,  and  closed  it  ?  The  horror  of  being  shut  out  all  night,  by 
some  undiscoverable  agency,  from  the  life  of  the  house,  was  stronger 
in  her  than  the  horror  of  looking  across  the  Banqueting-hall.  She 
made  desperately  for  the  door  of  the  room. 

It  had  fallen  to  silently  after  her  when  she  had  come  in,  but  it 
was  not  closed.     She  pulled  it  open,  and  looked. 

The  sight  that  met  her  eyes  rooted  her,  panic-stricken,  to  the 
spot. 

Close  to  the  first  of  the  row  of  windows,  counting  from  the  draw- 
ing-room, and  full  in  the  gleam  of  it,  she  saw  a  solitary  figure.  It 
stood  motionless,  rising  out  of  the  farthest  strip  of  moonlight  on  the 
floor.  As  she  looked,  it  suddenly  disappeared.  In  another  instant 
she  saw  it  again,  in  the  second  strip  of  moonlight — lost  it  again — 
saw  it  in  the  third  strip  —  lost  it  once  more  —  and  saw  it  in  the 
fourth.  Moment  by  moment  it  advanced,  now  mysteriously  lost  in 
the  shadow,  now  suddenly  visible  again  in  the  light,  until  it  reach' 
ed  the  fifth  and  nearest  strip  of  moonlight.  There  it  paused,  and 
strayed  aside  slowly  to  the  middle  of  the  Hall.     It  stopped  at  tha 


NO   NAME.  551 

tripod,  and  stood,  shivering  audibly  in  the  silence,  with  its  hands 
raised  over  the  dead  ashes,  in  the  action  of  warming  them  at  a  tire. 
It  turned  back  again,  moving  down  the  path  of  the  moonlight, 
stopped  at  the  fifth  window,  turned  once  more,  and  came  on  softly 
through  the  shadow  straight  to  the  place  where  Magdalen  stood. 

Her  voice  was  dumb,  her  will  was  helpless.  Every  sense  in  her 
but  the  seeing  sense  was  paralyzed.  The  seeing  sense — held  fast  in 
the  fetters  of  its  own  terror — looked  unchangeably  straightforward, 
as  it  had  looked  from  the  first.  There  she  stood  in  the  door-way, 
full  in  the  path  of  the  figure  advancing  on  her  through  the  shadow, 
nearer  and  nearer,  step  by  step. 

It  came  close. 

The  bonds  of  horror  that  held  her  burst  asunder  when  it  was 
within  arms-length.  She  started  back.  The  light  of  the  candle  on 
the  table  fell  full  on  its  face,  and  showed  her — Admiral  Bartram. 

A  long,  gray  dressing-gown  was  wrapped  round  him.  His  head 
was  uncovered ;  his  feet  were  bare.  In  his  left  hand  he  carried  his 
little  basket  of  keys.  He  passed  Magdalen  slowly,  his  lips  whisper- 
ing without  intermission,  his  open  eyes  staring  straight  before  him 
with  the  glassy  stare  of  death.  His  eyes  revealed  to  her  the  terrify- 
ing truth.     He  was  walking  in  his  sleep. 

The  terror  of  seeing  him  as  she  saw  him  now  was  not  the  terror 
she  had  felt  when  her  eyes  first  lighted  on  him — an  apparition  in 
the  moonlight,  a  spectre  in  the  ghostly  Hall.  This  time  she  could 
struggle  against  the  shock ;  she  could  feel  the  depth  of  her  own 
fear. 

He  passed  her,  and  stopped  in  the  middle  of  the  room.  Mag- 
dalen ventured  near  enough  to  him  to  be  within  reach  of  his  voice 
as  he  muttered  to  himself.  She  ventured  nearer  still,  and  heard 
the  name  of  her  dead  husband  fall  distinctly  from  the  sleep-walk- 
er's lips. 

"  Noel!"  he  said,  in  the  low  monotonous  tones  of  a  dreamer  talk- 
ing in  his  sleep,  "  my  good  fellow,  Noel,  take  it  back  again !  It 
worries  me  day  and  night.  I  don't  know  where  it's  safe ;  I  don't 
know  where  to  put  it.     Take  it  back,  Noel — take  it  back!" 

As  those  words  escaped  him,  he  walked  to  the  buhl  cabinet.  He 
sat  down  in  the  chair  placed  before  it,  and  searched  in  the  basket 
among  his  keys.  Magdalen  softly  followed  him,  and  stood  behind 
his  chair,  waiting  with  the  candle  in  her  hand.  He  found  the  key, 
and  unlocked  the  cabinet.  Without  an  instant's  hesitation,  he  drew 
out  a  drawer,  the  second  of  a  row.  The  one  thing  in  the  drawer 
was  a  folded  letter.  He  removed  it,  and  put  it  down  before  him  on 
tne  table.  "  Take  it  back,  Noel  I"  he  repeated,  mechanically ;  "  take 
it  back !" 

Magdalen  looked  over  his  shoulder  and  read  these  lines,  traced  in 


552  NO   NAME. 

her  husband's  handwriting,  at  the  top  of  the  letter :  To  be  kept  in 
your  own  possession,  and  to  be  opened  by  yourself  only  on  the  day  of 
my  decease.  Noel  Vanstone.  She  saw  the  words  plainly,  with  the 
admiral's  name  and  the  admiral's  address  written  under  them. 

The  Trust  within  reach  of  her  hand  !  The  Trust  traced  to  its  hid- 
ing-place at  last ! 

She  took  one  step  forward,  to  steal  round  his  chair  and  to  snatch 
the  letter  from  the  table.  At  the  instant  when  she  moved,  he  took 
it  up  once  more,  locked  the  cabinet,  and,  rising,  turned  and  faced  her. 

In  the  impulse  of  the  moment,  she  stretched  out  her  hand  toward 
the  hand  in  which  he  held  the  letter.  The  yellow  candle-light  fell 
full  on  him.  The  awful  death-in-life  of  his  face — the  mystery  of  the 
sleeping  body,  moving  in  unconscious  obedience  to  the  dreaming 
mind  —  daunted  her.  Her  hand  trembled,  and  dropped  again  at 
her  side. 

He  put  the  key  of  the  cabinet  back  in  the  basket,  and  crossed  the 
room  to  the  bureau,  with  the  basket  in  one  hand  and  the  letter  in 
the  other.  Magdalen  set  the  candle  on  the  table  again,  and  watch- 
ed him.  As  he  had  opened  the  cabinet,  so  he  now  opened  the  bu- 
reau. Once  more  Magdalen  stretched  out  her  hand,  and  once  more 
she  recoiled  before  the  mystery  and  the  terror  of  his  sleep.  He  put 
the  letter  in  a  drawer  at  the  back  of  the  bureau,  and  closed  the 
heavy  oaken  lid  again.  "  Yes,"  he  said.  "  Safer  there,  as  you  say, 
Noel— safer  there."  So  he  spoke.  So,  time  after  time,  the  words 
that  betrayed  him  revealed  the  dead  man  living  and  speaking  again 
in  the  dream. 

Had  he  locked  the  bureau  ?  Magdalen  had  not  heard  the  lock 
turn.  As  he  slowly  moved  away,  walking  back  once  more  toward 
the  middle  of  the  room,  she  tried  the  lid.  It  was  locked.  That 
discovery  made,  she  looked  to  see  what  he  was  doing  next.  He 
was  leaving  the  room  again,  with  the  basket  of  keys  in  his  hand. 
When  her  first  glance  overtook  him,  he  was  crossing  the  threshold 
of  the  door. 

Some  inscrutable  fascination  possessed  her,  some  mysterious  at- 
traction drew  her  after  him,  in  spite  of  herself.  She  took  up  the 
candle  and  followed  him  mechanically,  as  if  she  too  were  walking 
in  her  sleep.  One  behind  the  other,  in  slow  and  noiseless  progress, 
they  crossed  the  Banqueting -hall.  One  behind  the  other,  they 
passed  through  the  drawing-room,  and  along  the  corridor,  and  up 
the  stairs.  She  followed  him  to  his  own  door.  He  went  in,  and 
shut  it  behind  him  softly.  She  stopped,  and  looked  toward  the 
truckle-bed.  It  was  pushed  aside  at  the  foot,  some  little  distance 
away  from  the  bedroom  door.  Who  had  moved  it  ?  She  ht'M  f he 
candle  close  and  looked  toward  the  pillow,  with  a  sudden  curiosity 
and  a  sudden  doubt. 


NO    NAME.  553 

The  truckle-bed  was  empty. 

The  discovery  startled  her  for  the  moment,  and  for  the  moment 
only.  Plain  as  the  inferences  were  to  be  drawn  from  it,  she  never 
drew  them.  Her  mind,  slowly  recovering  the  exercise  of  its  facul- 
ties, was  still  under  the  influence  of  the  earlier  and  the  deeper  im- 
pressions produced  on  it.  Her  mind  followed  the  admiral  into  his 
room,  as  her  body  had  followed  him  across  the  Banqueting-hall. 

Had  lie  lain  down  again  in  his  bed?  "Was  he  still  asleep?  She 
listened  at  the  door.  Not  a  sound  was  audible  in  the  room.  She 
tried  the  door,  and,  finding  it  not  locked,  softly  opened  it  a  few 
inches  and  listened  again.  The  rise  and  fall  of  his  low,  regular 
breathing  instantly  caught  her  ear.     He  was  still  asleep. 

She  went  into  the  room,  and,  shading  the  candle-light  with  her 
hand,  approached  the  bedside  to  look  at  him.  The  dream  was 
past ;  the  old  man's  sleep  was  deep  and  peaceful ;  his  lips  were  still ; 
his  quiet  hand  was  laid  over  the  coverlet  in  motionless  repose.  He 
lay  with  his  face  turned  toward  the  right-hand  side  of  the  bed.  A 
little  table  stood  there  within  reach  of  his  hand.  Four  objects  were 
placed  on  it :  his  candle,  his  matches,  his  customary  night  drink  of 
lemonade,  and  his  basket  of  keys. 

The  idea  of  possessing  herself  of  his  keys  that  night  (if  an  oppor- 
tunity offered  when  the  basket  was  not  in  his  hand)  had  first  crossed 
her  mind  when  she  saw  him  go  into  his  room.  She  had  lost  it  again 
for  the  moment,  in  the  surprise  of  discovering  the  empty  truckle- 
bed.  She  now  recovered  it  the  instant  the  table  attracted  her  at- 
tention. It  was  useless  to  waste  time  in  trying  to  choose  the  one 
key  wanted  from  the  rest — the  one  key  was  not  well  enough  known 
to  her  to  be  readily  identified.  She  took  all  the  keys  from  the  ta- 
ble, in  the  basket  as  they  lay,  and  noiselessly  closed  the  door  behind 
her  on  leaving  the  room. 

The  truckle-bed,  as  she  passed  it,  obtruded  itself  again  on  her  at- 
tention, and  forced  her  to  think  of  it.  After  a  moment's  considera- 
tion, she  moved  the  foot  of  the  bed  back  to  its  customary  position 
across  the  door.  Whether  he  was  in  the  house  or  out  of  it,  the  vet- 
eran might  return  to  his  deserted  post  at  any  moment.  If  he  saw 
the  bed  moved  from  its  usual  place,  he  might  suspect  something 
wrong,  he  might  rouse  his  master,  and  the  loss  of  the  keys  might  be 
discovered. 

Nothing  happened  as  she  descended  the  stairs,  nothing  happened 
as  she  passed  along  the  corridor;  the  house  was  as  silent  and  as 
solitary  as  ever.  She  crossed  the  Banqueting-hall  this  time  without 
hesitation ;  the  events  of  the  night  had  hardened  her  mind  against 
all  imaginary  terrors.  "  Now  I  have  got  it !"  she  whispered  to  her- 
self, in  an  irrepressible  outburst  of  exultation,  as  she  entered  the  first 
of  the  east  rooms  and  put  her  candle  on  the  top  of  the  old  bureau. 


554  NO   NAME. 

Even  yet  there  was  a  trial  in  store  for  her  patience.  Some  min- 
utes elapsed  —  minutes  that  seemed  hours  —  before  she  found  the 
right  key,  and  raised  the  lid  of  the  bureau.  At  last  she  drew  out 
the  inner  drawer  !     At  last  she  had  the  letter  in  her  hand ! 

It  had  been  sealed,  but  the  seal  was  broken.  She  opened  it  on 
the  spot,  to  make  sure  that  she  had  actually  possessed  herself  of  the 
Trust  before  leaving  the  room.  The  end  of  the  letter  was  the  first 
part  of  it  she  turned  to.  It  came  to  its  conclusion  high  on  the  third 
page,  and  it  was  signed  by  Noel  Vanstone.  Below  the  name  these 
lines  were  added  in  the  admiral's  handwriting : 

"  This  letter  was  received  by  me  at  the  same  time  with  the  will  of 
my  friend,  Noel  Vanstone.  In  the  event  of  my  death,  without  leav- 
ing any  other  directions  respecting  it,  I  beg  my  nephew  and  my 
executors  to  understand  that  I  consider  the  requests  made  in  this 
document  as  absolutely  binding  on  me. 

"Arthur  Everard  Bartram." 

She  left  those  lines  unread.  She  just  noticed  that  they  were  not 
in  Noel  Vanstone's  handwriting ;  and,  passing  over  them  instantly, 
as  immaterial  to  the  object  in  view,  turned  the  leaves  of  the  letter, 
and  transferred  her  attention  to  the  opening  sentencea  on  the  first 
page.     She  read  these  words : 

"  Dear  Admiral  Bartram, — When  you  open  my  Will  (in  which 
you  are  named  my  sole  executor),  you  will  find  that  I  have  be- 
queathed the  whole  residue  of  my  estate — after  payment  of  one  leg- 
acy of  five  thousand  pounds — to  yourself.  It  is  the  purpose  of  my 
letter  to  tell  you  privately  what  the  object  is  for  which  I  have  left 
you  the  fortune  which  is  now  placed  in  your  hands. 

"  I  beg  you  to  consider  this  large  legacy  as  intended — " 

She  had  proceeded  thus  far  with  breathless  curiosity  and  interest, 
when  her  attention  suddenly  failed  her.  Something — she  was  too 
deeply  absorbed  to  know  what — had  got  between  her  and  the  let- 
ter. Was  it  a  sound  in  the  Banqueting-hall  again?  She  looked 
over  her  shoulder  at  the  door  behind  her,  and  listened.  Nothing 
was  to  be  heard,  nothing  was  to  be  seen.    She  returned  to  the  letter. 

The  writing  was  cramped  and  close.  In  her  impatient  curiosity 
to  read  more,  she  failed  to  find  the  lost  place  again.  Her  eyes,  at- 
tracted by  a  blot,  lighted  on  a  sentence  lower  in  the  page  than  the  sen- 
tence at  which  she  had  left  off.  The  first  three  words  she  saw  riv- 
eted her  attention  anew — they  were  the  first  words  she  had  met  with 
in  the  letter  which  directly  referred  to  George  Bartram.  In  the  sud- 
den excitement  of  that  discovery,  she  read  the  rest  of  the  sentence 


NO    NAME.  555 

eagerly,  before  she  made  any  second  attempt  to  return  to  the  lost 
place : 

"  If  your  nephew  fails  to  comply  with  these  conditions — that  is 
to  say,  if,  being  either  a  bachelor  or  a  widower  at  the  time  of  my 
decease,  he  fails  to  marry  in  all  respects  as  I  have  here  instructed 
him  to  marry,  within  six  calendar  months  from  that  time — it  is  my 
desire  that  he  shall  not  receive — " 

She  had  read  to  that  point,  to  that  last  word  and  no  further,  when 
a  hand  passed  suddenly  from  behind  her  between  the  letter  and  her 
eye,  and  gripped  her  fast  by  the  wrist  in  an  instant. 

She  turned  with  a  shriek  of  terror,  and  found  herself  face  to  face 
with  old  Mazey. 

The  veteran's  eyes  were  bloodshot ;  his  hand  was  heavy ;  his  list 
slippers  were  twisted  crookedly  on  his  feet ;  and  his  body  swayed 
to  and  fro  on  his  widely  parted  legs.  If  he  had  tested  his  condi- 
tion that  night  by  the  unfailing  criterion  of  the  model  ship,  he  must 
have  inevitably  pronounced  sentence  on  himself  in  the  usual  form  : 
"  Drunk  again,  Mazey ;  drunk  again." 

"  You  young  Jezabel !"  said  the  old  sailor,  with  a  leer  on  one  side 
of  his  face,  and  a  frown  on  the  other.  "  The  next  time  you  take  to 
night-walking  in  the  neighborhood  of  Freeze-your-Bones,  use  those 
sharp  eyes  of  yours  first,  and  make  sure  there's  nobody  else  night- 
walking  in  the  garden  outside.     Drop  it,  Jezabel !  drop  it !" 

Keeping  fast  hold  of  Magdalen's  arm  with  one  hand,  he  took  the 
letter  from  her  with  the  other,  put  it  back  into  the  open  drawer, 
and  locked  the  bureau-  She  never  struggled  with  him,  she  never 
spoke.  Her  energy  was  gone  ;  her  powers  of  resistance  were  crush- 
ed. The  terrors  of  that  horrible  night,  following  one  close  on  the 
other  in  reiterated  shocks,  had  struck  her  down  at  last.  She  yield- 
ed as  submissively,  she  trembled  as  helplessly,  as  the  weakest  wom- 
an living. 

Old  Mazey  dropped  her  arm,  and  pointed  with  drunken  solemni- 
ty to  a  chair  in  an  inner  corner  of  the  room.  She  sat  down,  still 
without  uttering  a  word.  The  veteran  (breathing  very  hard  over 
it)  steadied  himself  on  both  elbows  against  the  slanting  top  of  the 
bureau,  and  from  that  commanding  position  addressed  Magdalen 
once  more. 

"  Come  and  be  locked  up  !"  said  old  Mazey,  wagging  his  vener- 
able head  with  judicial  severity.  "  There'll  be  a  court  of  inquiry 
to-morrow  morning,  and  I'm  witness  —  worse  luck!  —  I'm  witness. 
You  young  jade,  you've  committed  burglary — that's  what  you've 
done.  His  honor  the  admiral's  keys  stolen ;  his  honor  the  admiral's 
desk  ransacked ;  and  his  honor  the  admiral's  private  letters  broke 
open.     Burglary !    Burglary  !    Come  and  be  locked  up  !"    He  slow- 


656  NO    NAME, 

ly  recovered  an  upright  position,  with  the  assistance  of  his  hands, 
backed  by  the  solid  resisting  power  of  the  bureau  ;  and  lapsed  into 
lachrymose  soliloquy.  "  Who'd  have  thought  it  ?"  said  old  Mazey, 
paternally  watering  at  the  eyes.  "  Take  the  outside  of  her,  and 
she's  as  straight  as  a  poplar ;  take  the  inside  of  her,  and  she's  as 
crooked  as  Sin.  Such  a  fine-grown  girl,  too.  What  a  pity !  what 
a  pity !" 

"  Don't  hurt  me !"  said  Magdalen,  faintly,  as  old  Mazey  staggered 
up  to  the  chair,  and  took  her  by  the  wrist  again.  "  I'm  frightened, 
Mr.  Mazey — I'm  dreadfully  frightened." 

"  Hurt  you  ?"  repeated  the  veteran.  "  I'm  a  deal  too  fond  of  you 
— and  more  shame  for  me  at  my  age  !— to  hurt  you.  If  I  let  go  of 
your  wrist,  will  you  walk  straight  before  me,  where  I  can  see  you 
all  the  way  ?  Will  you  be  a  good  girl,  and  walk  straight  up  to  your 
own  door  ?" 

Magdalen  gave  the  promise  required  of  her  — gave  it  with  an 
eager  longing  to  reach  the  refuge  of  her  room.  She  rose,  and  tried 
to  take  the  candle  from  the  bureau,  but  old  Mazey's  cunning  hand 
was  too  quick  for  her.  "  Let  the  candle  be,"  said  the  veteran,  wink- 
ing in  momentary  forgetfulness  of  his  responsible  position.  "  You're 
a  trifle  quicker  on  your  legs  than  I  am,  my  dear,  and  you  might 
leave  me  in  the  lurch,  if  I  don't  carry  the  light." 

They  returned  to  the  inhabited  side  of  the  house.  Staggering 
after  Magdalen,  with  the  basket  of  keys  in  one  hand  and  the  candle 
in  the  other,  old  Mazey  sorrowfully  compared  her  figure  with  the 
straightness  of  the  poplar,  and  her  disposition  with  the  crookedness 
of  Sin,  all  the  way  across  "  Freeze-your-Bones,"  and  all  the  way  up 
stairs  to  her  own  door.  Arrived  at  that  destination,  he  peremptori- 
ly refused  to  give  her  the  candle  until  he  had  first  seen  her  safely 
inside  the  room.  The  conditions  being  complied  with,  he  resigned 
the  light  with  one  hand,  and  made  a  dash  with  the  other  at  the 
key,  drew  it  from  the  inside  of  the  lock,  and  instantly  closed  the 
door.  Magdalen  heard  him  outside  chuckling  over  his  own  dex 
terity,  and  fitting  the  key  into  the  lock  again  with  infinite  difficulty. 
At  last  he  secured  the  door,  with  a  dec])  grunt  of  relief.  "There 
she  is  safe  !"  Magdalen  heard  him  say,  in  regretful  soliloquy.  "  As 
fine  a  girl  as  ever  I  set  eyes  on.     What  a  pity !  what  a  pity  !" 

The  last  sounds  of  his  voice  died  out  in  the  distance;  and  she 
was  left  alone  in  her  room. 

Holding  fast  by  the  banister,  old  Mazey  made  his  way  down  to 
che  corridor  on  the  second  floor,  in  which  a  night  light  was  always 
burning.  He  advanced  to  the  truckle-bed,  and,  steadying  himself 
against  the  opposite  wall,  looked  at  it  attentively.  Prolonged  con- 
templation  of  his  own  resting-place  for  the  night  apparently  failed 


NO    NAMK.  557 

to  satisfy  him.  Ho  shook  his  head  ominously,  and,  taking  from 
the  side-pocket  of  his  great-coat  a  pair  of  old  patched  slippers,  sur- 
veyed them  with  an  aspect  of  illimitable  doubt.  "I'm  all  abroad 
to-night,"  he  mumbled  to  himself.  "Troubled  in  my  mind — that's 
what  it  is — troubled  in  my  mind." 

The  old  patched  slippers  and  the  veteran's  existing  perplexities 
happened  to  be  intimately  associated  one  with  the  other,  in  the  re- 
lation of  cause  and  effect.  The  slippers  belonged  to  the  admiral, 
who  had  taken  one  of  his  unreasonable  fancies  to  this  particular 
pair,  and  who  still  persisted  in  wearing  them  long  after  they  were 
unfit  for  his  service.  Early  that  afternoon  old  Mazey  had  taken  the 
slippers  to  the  village  cobbler  to  get  them  repaired  on  the  spot,  be- 
fore his  master  called  for  them  the  next  morning.  He  sat  super- 
intending the  progress  and  completion  of  the  work  until  evening 
came,  when  he  and  the  cobbler  betook  themselves  to  the  village 
inn  to  drink  each  other's  healths  at  parting.  They  had  prolonged 
this  social  ceremony  till  far  into  the  night ;  and  they  had  parted, 
as  a  necessary  consequence,  in  a  finished  and  perfect  state  of  intoxi- 
cation on  either  side. 

If  the  drinking-bout  had  led  to  no  other  result  than  those  night 
wanderings  in  the  grounds  of  St.  Crux,  which  had  shown  old  Mazey 
the  light  in  the  east  windows,  his  memory  would  unquestionably 
have  presented  it  to  him  the  next  morning  in  the  aspect  of  one  of 
the  praiseworthy  achievements  of  his  life.  But  another  consequence 
had  sprung  froin  it,  which  the  old  sailor  now  saw  dimly,  through 
the  interposing  bewilderment  left  in  his  brain  by  the  drink.  He 
had  committed  a  breach  of  discipline,  and  a  breach  of  trust.  In 
plainer  words,  he  had  deserted  his  post. 

The  one  safeguard  against  Admiral  Bartram's  constitutional  tend- 
ency to  somnambulism  was  the  watch  and  ward  which  his  faith- 
ful old  servant  kept  outside  his  door.  No  entreaties  had  ever  pre- 
vailed on  him  to  submit  to  the  usual  precaution  taken  in  such  cases. 
He  peremptorily  declined  to  be  locked  into  his  room ;  he  even  ig- 
nored his  own  liability,  whenever  a  dream  disturbed  him,  to  walk 
in  his  sleep.  Over  and  over  again,  old  Mazey  had  been  roused  by 
the  admiral's  attempts  to  push  past  the  truckle-bed,  or  to  step 
over  it,  in  his  sleep  ;  and  over  and  over  again,  when  the  veteran 
had  reported  the  fact  the  next  morning,  his  master  had  declined  to 
believe  him.  As  the  old  sailor  now  stood,  staring  in  vacant  inquiry 
at  the  bed-chamber  door,  these  incidents  of  the  past  rose  confusedly 
on  his  memory,  and  forced  on  him  the  serious  question  whether  the 
admiral  had  left  his  room  during  the  earlier  hours  of  the  night.  If 
by  any  mischance  the  sleep-walking  fit  had  seized  him,  the  slippers 
in  old  Mazey's  hand  pointed  straight  to  the  conclusion  that  follow- 
ed— his  master  must  have  passed  barefoot  in  the  cold  night  over  the 


558  NO   NAME. 

stone  stairs  and  passages  of  St.  Crux.  "  Lord  send  he's  been  quiet  I" 
muttered  old  Mazey,  daunted,  bold  as  he  was  and  drunk  as  he  was, 
by  the  bare  contemplation  of  that  prospect.  "  If  his  honor's  been 
walking  to-night,  it  will  be  the  death  of  him  !" 

He  roused  himself  for  the  moment  by  main  force — strong  in  his 
dog-like  fidelity  to  the  admiral,  though  strong  in  nothing  else — and 
fought  off  the  stupor  of  the  drink.  He  looked  at  the  bed  with 
steadier  eyes  and  a  clearer  mind.  Magdalen's  precaution  in  return- 
ing it  to  its  customary  position  presented  it  to  him  necessarily  in 
the  aspect  of  a  bed  which  had  never  been  moved  from  its  place. 
He  next  examined  the  counterpane  carefully.  Not  the  faintest  ves- 
tige appeared  of  the  indentation  which  must  have  been  left  by  foot- 
steps passing  over  it.  There  was  the  plain  evidence  before  him — 
the  evidence  recognizable  at  last  by  his  own  bewildered  eyes — that 
the  admiral  had  never  moved  from  his  room.  "  I'll  take  the  Pledge 
to-morrow  !"  mumbled  old  Mazey,  in  an  outburst  of  grateful  relief. 
The  next  moment  the  fumes  of  the  liquor  flowed  back  insidiously 
over  his  brain  ;  and  the  veteran,  returning  to  his  customary  remedy, 
paced  the  passage  in  zigzag  as  usual,  and  kept  watch  on  the  deck 
of  an  imaginary  ship. 

Soon  after  sunrise,  Magdalen  suddenly  heard  the  grating  of  the 
key  from  outside  in  the  lock  of  the  door.  The  door  opened,  and 
old  Mazey  re-appeared  on  the  threshold.  The  first  fever  of  his 
intoxication  had  cooled,  with  time,  into  a  mild,  penitential  glow. 
He  breathed  harder  than  ever,  in  a  succession  of  low  growls,  and 
wagged  his  venerable  head  at  his  own  delinquencies  without  inter- 
mission. 

"  How  are  you  now,  you  young  land-shark  in  petticoats  ?"  in- 
quired the  old  sailor.  "  Has  your  conscience  been  quiet  enough  to 
let  you  go  to  sleep  ?" 

"  I  have  not  slept,"  said  Magdalen,  drawing  back  from  him  in 
doubt  of  what  he  might  do  next.  "  I  have  no  remembrance  of 
what  happened  after  you  locked  the  door  —  I  think  I  must  have 
fainted.  Don't  frighten  me  again,  Mr.  Mazey  !  I  feel  miserably 
weak  and  ill.     What  do  you  want  ?" 

"  I  want  to  say  something  serious,"  replied  old  Mazey,  with  im- 
penetrable solemnity.  "  It's  been  on  my  mind  to  come  here  and 
make  a  clean  breast  of  it,  for  the  last  hour  or  more.  Mark  my  words, 
young  woman.     I'm  going  to  disgrace  myself." 

Magdalen  drew  further  and  further  back,  and  looked  at  him  in 
rising  alarm. 

"  I  know  my  duty  to  his  honor  the  admiral,"  proceeded  old  Ma- 
zey, waving  his  hand  drearily  in  the  direction  of  his  master's  door. 
"  But,  try  as  hard  as  I  may,  I  can't  find  it  in  my  heart,  you  young 


NO   NAME.  559 

jade,  to  be  witness  against  you.  I  liked  the  make  of  you  (especial- 
ly about  the  waist)  when  you  first  came  into  the  house,  and  I  can't 
help  liking  the  make  of  you  still — though  you  have  committed  bur- 
glary, and  though  you  are  as  crooked  as  Sin.  I've  cast  the  eyes  of 
indulgence  on  fine-grown  girls  all  my  life,  and  it's  too  late  in  the 
day  to  cast  the  eyes  of  severity  on  'em  now.  I'm  seventy-seven,  or 
seventy-eight,  I  don't  rightly  know  which.  I'm  a  battered  old 
hulk,  with  my  seams  opening,  and  my  pumps  choked,  and  the  wa- 
ters of  Death  powering  in  on  me  as  fast  as  they  can.  I'm  as  miser- 
able a  sinner  as  you'll  meet  with  anywhere  in  these  parts— Thomas 
Nagle,  the  cobbler,  only  excepted ;  and  he's  worse  than  I  am,  for 
he's  the  youngest  of  the  two,  and  he  ought  to  know  better.  But 
the  long  and  short  of  it  is,  I  shall  go  down  to  my  grave  with  an  eye 
of  indulgence  for  a  fine-grown  girl.  More  shame  for  me,  you  young 
Jezabel — more  shame  for  me  !" 

The  veteran's  unmanageable  eyes  began  to  leer  again  in  spite  of 

him,  as  he  concluded  his  harangue  in  these  terms  :  the  last  reserves 

of  austerity  left  in  his  face  intrenched  themselves  dismally  round 

1  the  corners  of  his  mouth.     Magdalen  approached  him  again,  and 

i  tried  to   speak.     He   solemnly  motioned   her  back  with   another 

dreary  wave  of  his  hand. 

"  No  carneying  !"  said  old  Mazey ;  "  I'm  bad  enough  already, 
without  that.  It's  my  duty  to  make  my  report  to  his  honor  the  ad- 
miral, and  I  will  make  it.  But  if  you  like  to  give  the  house  the 
slip  before  the  burglary's  reported,  and  the  court  of  inquiry  begins, 
I'll  disgrace  myself  by  letting  you  go.  It's  market  morning  at  Os- 
sory,  and  Dawkes  will  be  driving  the  light  cart  over  in  a  quarter  of 
an  hour's  time.  Dawkes  will  take  you  if  I  ask  him.  I  know  my 
duty — my  duty  is  to  turn  the  key  on  you,  and  see  Dawkes  damned 
first.  But  I  can't  find  it  in  my  heart  to  be  hard  on  a  fine  girl  like 
you.  It's  bred  in  the  bone,  and  it  wunt  come  out  of  the  flesh. 
More  shame  for  me,  I  tell  you  again — more  shame  for  me  !" 

The  proposal  thus  strangely  and  suddenly  presented  to  her  took 
Magdalen  completely  by  surprise.  She  had  been  far  too  seriously 
;«haken  by  the  events  of  the  night  to  be  capable  of  deciding  on 
any  subject  at  a  moment's  notice.  "  You  are  very  good  to  me,  Mr. 
Mazey,"  she  said.     "  May  I  have  a  minute  by  myself  to  think  ?" 

"  Yes,  you  may,"  replied  the  veteran,  facing  about  forthwith,  and 
leaving  the  room.  "  They're  all  alike,"  proceeded  old  Mazey,  with 
his  head  still  running  on  the  sex.  "  Whatever  you  offer  'em,  they 
always  want  something  more.  Tall  and  short,  native  and  foreign, 
sweethearts  and  wives,  they're  all  alike  !" 

Left  by  herself,  Magdalen  reached  her  decision  with  far  less  diffi- 
culty than  she  had  anticipated. 
If  she  remained  in  the  house,  there  were  only  two  courses  before 


560  NO    NAME. 

her — to  charge  old  Mazey  with  speaking  under  the  influence  of  a 
drunken  delusion,  or  to  submit  to  circumstances.  Though  she  owed 
to  the  old  sailor  her  defeat  in  the  very  hour  of  success,  his  considera- 
tion for  her  at  that  moment  forbade  the  idea  of  defending  herself  at 
his  expense — even  supposing,  what  was  in  the  last  degree  improba- 
ble, that  the  defense  would  be  credited.  In  the  second  of  the  two 
cases  (the  case  of  submission  to  circumstances),  but  one  result  could 
be  expected  —  instant  dismissal,  and  perhaps  discovery  as  well. 
What  object  was  to  be  gained  by  braving  that  degradation  —  by 
leaving  the  house  publicly  disgraced  in  the  eyes  of  the  servants 
who  had  hated  and  distrusted  her  from  the  first  ?  The  accident 
which  had  literally  snatched  the  Trust  from  her  possession  when 
she  had  it  in  her  hand  was  irreparable.  The  one  apparent  compen- 
sation under  the  disaster — in  other  words,  the  discovery  that  the 
Trust  actually  existed,  and  that  George  Bartram's  marriage  within 
a  given  time  was  one  of  the  objects  contained  in  it^-was  a  compen- 
sation which  could  only  be  estimated  at  its  true  value  by  placing  it 
under  the  light  of  Mr.  Loscombe's  experience.  Every  motive  of 
which  she  was  conscious  was  a  motive  which  urged  her  to  leave  the 
house  secretly  while  the  chance  was  at  her  disposal.  She  looked 
out  into  the  passage,  and  called  softly  to  old  Mazey  to  come  back. 

"I  accept  your  offer  thankfully,  Mr.  Mazey,"  she  said.  "You 
don't  know  what  hard  measure  you  dealt  out  to  me  when  you  took 
that  letter  from  my  hand.  But  you  did  your  duty,  and  I  can  be 
grateful  to  you  for  spariug  me  this  morning,  hard  as  you  were  upon 
me  last  night.  I  am  not  such  a  bad  girl  as  you  think  me — I  am  not, 
indeed." 

Old  Mazey  dismissed  the  subject  with  another  dreary  wave  of  his 
hand. 

"  Let  it  be,"  said  the  veteran,  "  let  it  be  !  It  makes  no  difference, 
my  girl,  to  such  an  old  rascal  as  I  am.  If  you  were  fifty  times  worse 
than  you  are,  I  should  let  you  go  all  the  same.  Put  on  your  bonnet 
and  shawl,  and  come  along.  I'm  a  disgrace  to  myself  and  a  warn- 
ing to  others — that's  what  I  am.  No  luggage,  mind  !  Leave  all 
your  rattle-traps  behind  you  :  to  be  overhauled,  if  necessary,  at  his 
honor  the  admiral's  discretion.  I  can  be  hard  enough  on  your 
boxes,  you  young  Jezabel,  if  I  can't  be  hard  on  you." 

With  these  words,  old  Mazey  led  the  way  out  of  the  room.  "  The 
less  I  see  of  her  the  better — especially  about  the  waist,"  he  said  to 
himself,  as  he  hobbled  down  stairs  with  the  help  of  the  banisters. 

The  cart  was  standing  in  the  back  yard  when  they  reached  the 
lower  regions  of  the  house,  and  Dawkes  (otherwise  the  farm-bailiff's 
man)  was  fastening  the  last  buckle  of  the  horse's  harness.  The  hoar- 
frost of  the  morning  was  still  white  in  the  shade.  The  sparkling 
joints  of  it  glistened  brightly  on  the  shaggy  coats  of  Brutus  and 


NO   NAME.  561 

Cassius,  as  they  idled  about  the  yard,  waiting,  with  steaming  mouths 
and  slowly  wagging  tails,  to  see  the  cart  drive  off.  Old  Mazey  went 
out  alone  and  used  his  influence  withDawkes,  who,  staring  in  stolid 
amazement,  put  a  leather  cushion  on  the  cart-seat  for  his  fellow- 
traveler.  Shivering  in  the  sharp  morning  air,  Magdalen  waited, 
while  the  preliminaries'  of  departure  were  in  progress,  conscious  of 
nothing  but  a  giddy  bewilderment  of  thought,  and  a  helpless  sus- 
pension of  feeling.  The  events  of  the  night  confused  themselves 
hideously  with  the  trivial  circumstances  passing  before  her  eyes  in 
the  court-yard.  She  started  with  the  sudden  terror  of  the  night 
when  old  Mazey  re-appeared  to  summon  her  out  to  the  cart.  She 
trembled  with  the  helpless  confusion  of  the  night  when  the  veteran 
cast  the  eyes  of  indulgence  on  her  for  the  last  time,  and  gave  her  a 
kiss  on  the  cheek  at  parting.  The  next  minute  she  felt  him  help 
her  into  the  cart,  and  pat  her  on  the  back.  The  next,  she  heard 
him  tell  her  in  a  confidential  whisper  that,  sitting  or  standing,  she 
was  as  straight  as  a  poplar  either  way.  Then  there  was  a  pause,  in 
which  nothing  was  said,  and  nothing  done  ;  and  then  the  driver 
took  the  reins  in  hand  and  mounted  to  his  place. 

She  roused  herself  at  the  parting  moment  and  looked  back.  The 
last  sight  she  saw  at  St.  Crux  was  old  Mazey  wagging  his  head  in 
the  court-yard,  with  his  fellow-profligates,  the  dogs,  keeping  time 
to  him  with  their  tails.  The  last  words  she  heard  were  the  words 
in  which  the  veteran  paid  his  farewell  tribute  to  her  charms : 

"  Burglary,  or  no  burglary,"  said  old  Mazey,  "  she's  a  fine-grown 
girl,  if  ever  there  was  a  fine  one  yet.     What  a  pity  !  what  a  pity  !"    • 

THE  END  OP  THE  SEVENTH  SCENE. 


BETWEEN  THE  SCENES. 

PROGRESS  OF  THE  STORY  THROUGH  THE  POST. 


I. 

From  George  Bartram  to  Admiral  Bartram. 

"  London,  April  3d,  1848. 
"  My  dear  Uncle, — One  hasty  line,  to  inform  you  of  a  temporary 
obstacle,  which  we  neither  of  us  anticipated  when  we  took  leave  of 
each  other  at  St.  Crux.  While  I  was  wasting  the  last  days  of  the 
week  at  the  Grange,  the  Tyrrels  must  have  been  making  their  ar 
rangemeuts  for  leaving  London.     I  have  just  come  from  Portland 


562  NO    NAME. 

Place.  The  house  is  shut  up,  and  the  family  (Miss  Van  stone,  of 
course,  included)  left  England  yesterday,  to  pass  the  season  in  Paris. 
"  Pray  don't  let  yourself  be  annoyed  by  this  little  check  at  start- 
ing. It  is  of  no  serious  importance  whatever.  I  have  got  the  ad- 
dress at  which  the  Tyrrels  are  living,  and  I  mean  to  cross  the  Chan- 
nel after  them  by  the  mail  to-night.  I  shall  find  my  opportunity  in 
Paris  just  as  soon  as  I  could  have  found  it  in  London.  The  grass 
shall  not  grow  under  my  feet,  I  promise  you.  For  once  in  my  life, 
I  will  take  Time  as  fiercely  by  the  forelock  as  if  I  was  the  most  im- 
petuous man  in  England ;  and,  rely  on  it,  the  moment  1  know  the 
result,  you  shall  know  the  result  too. 

"Affectionately  yours,  George  Bartram." 

n. 

From  George  Bartram  to  Miss  Garth. 

"Paris,  April  13th. 

"  Dear  Miss  Garth, — I  have  just  written,  with  a  heavy  heart,  to 
my  uncle,  and  I  think  I  owe  it  to  your  kind  interest  in  me  not  to 
omit  writing  next  to  you. 

"  You  will  feel  for  my  disappointment,  I  am  sure,  when  I  tell  you, 
in  the  fewest  and  plainest  words,  that  Miss  Vanstone  has  refused  me. 

"  My  vanity  may  have  grievously  misled  me,  but  I  confess  I  ex- 
pected a  very  different  result.  My  vanity  may  be  misleading  me 
still ;  for  I  must  acknowledge  to  you  privately,  that  I  think  Miss 
Vanstone  was  sorry  to  refuse  me.  The  reason  she  gave  for  her  de- 
cision— no  doubt  a  sufficient  reason  in  her  estimation — did  not  at 
the  time,  and  does  not  now,  seem  sufficient  to  me.  She  spoke  in 
the  sweetest  and  kindest  manner,  but  she  firmly  declared  that  '  her 
family  misfortunes'  left  her  no  honorable  alternative — but  to  think 
of  my  own  interests  as  I  had  not  thought  of  them  myself — and 
gratefully  to  decline  accepting  my  offer. 

"  She  was  so  painfully  agitated  that  I  could  not  venture  to  plead 
my  own  cause  as  I  might  otherwise  have  pleaded  it.  At  the  first 
attempt  I  made  to  touch  the  personal  question,  she  entreated  me  to 
spare  her,  and  abruptly  left  the  room.  I  am  still  ignorant  whether 
I  am  to  interpret  the  '  family  misfortunes '  which  have  set  up  this 
barrier  between  us,  as  meaning  the  misfortune  for  which  her  parents 
alone  are  to  blame,  or  the  misfortune  of  her  having  such  a  woman 
as  Mrs.  Noel  Vanstone  for  her  sister.  In  whichever  of  these  circum- 
stances the  obstacle  lies,  it  is  no  obstacle  in  my  estimation.  Ca* 
nothing  remove  it  ?  Is  there  no  hope  ?  Forgive  me  for  asking 
these  questions.  I  can  not  bear  up  against  my  bitter  disappoint 
ment.  Neither  she,  nor  you,  nor  any  one  but  myself,  can  kno^ 
how  I  love  her. 

"  Ever  most  truly  yours,  George  Bartram. 


NO    NAME.  563 

"  P.S. — I  shall  leave  for  England  in  a  day  or  two,  passing  through 
London  on  my  way  to  St.  Crux.  There  are  family  reasons,  connect- 
ed with  the  hateful  subject  of  money,  which  make  me  look  forward 
with  any  thing  but  pleasure  to  my  next  interview  with  my  uncle.  If 
you  address  your  letter  to  Long's  Hotel,  it  will  be  sure  to  reach  me." 

III. 

From  Miss  Garth  to  George  Bartram. 

"  Westmoreland  House,  April  16th. 

"  Dear  Mr.  Bartram, — You  only  did  me  justice  in  supposing 
that  your  letter  would  distress  me.  If  you  had  supposed  that?  it 
would  make  me  excessively  angry  as  well,  you  would  not  have  been 
far  wrong.  I  have  no  patience  with  the  pride  and  perversity  of  the 
young  women  of  the  present  day. 

"  I  have  heard  from  Norah.  It  is  a  long  letter,  stating  the  par- 
ticulars in  full  detail.  I  am  now  going  to  put  all  the  confidence  in 
your  honor  and  your  discretion  which  I  really  feel.  For  your  sake, 
and  for  Nbrah's,  I  am  going  to  let  you  know  what  the  scruple  really 
is  which  has  misled  her  into  the  pride  and  folly  of  refusing  you.  I 
am  old  enough  to  speak  out ;  and  I  can  tell  you,  if  she  had  only 
been  wise  enough  to  let  her  own  wishes  guide  her,  she  would  have 
said  Yes — and  gladly  too. 

"  The  original  cause  of  all  the  mischief  is  no  less  a  person  than 
your  worthy  uncle — Admiral  Bartram. 

"  It  seems  that  the  admiral  took  it  into  his  head  (I  suppose  dur- 
ing your  absence)  to  go  to  London  by  himself  and  to  satisfy  some 
curiosity  of  his  own  about  Norah  by  calling  in  Portland  Place,  un- 
der pretense  of  renewing  his  old  friendship  with  the  Tyrrels.  He 
came  at  luncheon-time,  and  saw  Norah ;  and,  from  all  I  can  hear, 
was  apparently  better  pleased  with  her  than  he  expected  or  wished 
to  be  when  he  came  into  the  house. 

"  So  far,  this  is  mere  guess-work ;  but  it  is  unluckily  certain  that 
he  and  Mrs.  Tyrrel  had  some  talk  together  alone  when  luncheon 
was  over.  Your  name  was  not  mentioned ;  but  when  their  conver- 
sation fell  on  Norah,  you  were  in  both  their  minds,  of  course.  The 
admiral  (doing  her  full  justice  personally)  declared  himself  smitten 
with  pity  for  her  hard  lot  in  life.  The  scandalous  conduct  of  her 
sister  must  always  stand  (he  feared)  in  the  way  of  her  future  ad- 
vantage. Who  could  marry  her,  without  first  making  it  a  condition 
that  she  and  her  sister  were  to  be  absolute  strangers  to  each  other  ? 
And  even  then,  the  objection  would  remain — the  serious  objection 
to  the  husband's  family — of  being  connected  by  marriage  with  such 
a  woman  as  Mrs.  Noel  Vanstone.  It  was  very  sad ;  it  was  not  the 
poor  giiTs  fault,  but  it  was  none  the  less  true  that  her  sister  was  her 
rock  ahead  in  life,     So  he  ran  on,  with  no  real  ill-feeling  toward 


564  NO   NAME. 

Noral),  but  with  an  obstinate  belief  in  his  own  prejudices  which  bore 
the  aspect  of  ill-feeling,  and  which  people  with  more  temper  than 
judgment  would  be  but  too  readily  disjjosed  to  resent  accordingly. 

"  Unfortunately,  Mrs.  Tyrrel  is  one  of  those  people.  She  is  an  ex- 
cellent, warm-hearted  woman,  with  a  quick  temper  and  very  little 
judgment ;  strongly  attached  to  Norah,  and  heartily  interested  in 
Norah's  welfare.  From  all  I  can  learn,  she  first  resented  the  ex- 
pression of  the  admiral's  opinion,  in  his  presence,  as  worldly  and 
selfish  in  the  last  degree ;  and  then  interpreted  it  behind  his  back, 
as  a  hint  to  discourage  his  nephew's  visits,  which  was  a  downright 
insult  offered  to  a  lady  in  her  own  house.  This  was  foolish  enough 
so  far ;  but  worse  folly  was  to  come. 

"  As  soon  as  your  uncle  was  gone,  Mrs.  Tyrrel,  most  unwisely  and 
improperly,  sent  for  Norah,  and,  repeating  the  conversation  that  had 
taken  place,  warned  her  of  the  reception  she  might  expect  from  the 
man  who  stood  toward  you  in  the  position  of  a  father,  if  she  accept- 
ed an  offer  of  marriage  on  your  part.  When  I  tell  you  that  Norah's 
faithful  attachment  to  her  sister  still  remains  unshaken,  and  that 
there  lies  hidden  under  her  noble  submission  to  the  unhappy  cir- 
cumstances of  her  life,  a  proud  susceptibility  to  slights  of  all  kinds, 
which  is  deeply  seated  in  her  nature — you  will  understand  the  true 
motive  of  the  refusal  which  has  so  naturally  and  so  justly  disap- 
pointed you.  They  are  all  three  equally  to  blame  in  this  matter. 
Your  uncle  was  wrong  to  state  his  objections  so  roundly  and  incon- 
siderately as  he  did.  Mrs.  Tyrrel  was  wrong  to  let  her  temper  get 
the  better  of  her,  and  to  suppose  herself  insulted  where  no  insult 
was  intended.  And  Norah  was  wrong  to  place  a  scruple  of  pride, 
and  a  hopeless  belief  in  her  sister  which  no  strangers  can  be  expect- 
ed to  share,  above  the  higher  claims  of  an  attachment  which  might 
have  secured  the  happiness  and  the  prosperity  of  her  future  life. 

"  But  the  mischief  has  been  done.  The  next  question  is,  Can  the 
harm  be  remedied  ? 

"  I  hope  and  believe  it  can.  My  advice  is  this :  Don't  take  No  for 
an  answer.  Give  her  time  enough  to  reflect  on  what  she  has  done, 
and  to  regret  it  (as  I  believe  she  will  regret  it)  in  secret ;  trust  to 
my  influence  over  her  to  plead  your  cause  for  you  at  every  opportu- 
nity I  can  find ;  wait  patiently  for  the  right  moment,  and  ask  her 
again.  Men,  being  accustomed  to  act  on  reflection  themselves,  are 
a  great  deal  too  apt  to  believe  that  women  act  on  reflection  too. 
Women  do  nothing  of  the  sort.  They  act  on  impulse ;  and,  in  nine 
cases  out  of  ten,  they  are  heartily  sorry  for  it  afterward. 

"  In  the  mean  while,  you  must  help  your  own  interests,  by  indu- 
cing your  uncle  to  alter  his  opinion,  or  at  least  to  make  the  conces- 
sion of  keeping  his  opinion  to  himself.  Mis.  Tyrrel  has  rushed  to 
the  conclusion  that  the  harm  lie  has  done  he  did  intentionally— 


NO   NAME.  565 

which  is  as  much  as  to  say,  in  so  many  words,  that  he  had  a  pro- 
phetic conviction,  when  he  came  into  the  house,  of  what  she  would 
do  when  he  left  it.  My  explanation  of  the  matter  is  a  much  simpler 
one.  I  believe  that  the  knowledge  of  your  attachment  naturally 
aroused  his  curiosity  to  see  the  object  of  it,  and  that  Mrs.  Tyrrel's 
injudicious  praises  of  Norah  irritated  his  objections  into  openly  de- 
claring themselves.  Any  way,  your  course  lies  equally  plain  before 
you.  Use  your  influence  over  your  uncle  to  persuade  him  into  set- 
ting matters  right  again ;  trust  my  settled  resolution  to  see  Norah 
your  wife  before  six  months  more  are  over  our  heads ;  and  believe 
me,  your  friend  and  well-wisher,  Harriet  Garth." 

IV. 

From  Mrs.  Drake  to   George  Bartram. 

"St.  Crux,  April  17th. 

"  Sir, — I  direct  these  lines  to  the  hotel  you  usually  stay  at  in 
London,  hoping  that  you  may  return  soon  enough  from  foreign  parts 
to  receive  my  letter  without  delay. 

"  I  am  sorry  to  say  that  some  unpleasant  events  have  taken  place 
at  St.  Crux  since  you  left  it,  and  that  my  honored  master,  the  ad- 
miral, is  far  from  enjoying  his  usual  good  health.  On  both  these 
accounts,  I  venture  to  write  to  you  on  my  own  responsibility,  for  I 
think  your  presence  is  needed  in  the  house. 

"  Early  in  the  month  a  most  regretable  circumstance  took  place. 
Our  new  parlor-maid  was  discovered  by  Mr.  Mazey,  at  a  late  hour  of 
the  night  (with  her  master's  basket  of  keys  in  her  possession),  pry- 
ing into  the  private  documents  kept  in  the  east  library.  The  girl 
removed  herself  from  the  house  the  next  morning  before  we  were 
any  of  us  astir,  and  she  has  not  been  heard  of  since.  This  event  has 
annoyed  and  alarmed  my  master  very  seriously ;  and  to  make  mat- 
ters worse,  on  the  day  when  the  girl's  treacherous  conduct  was  dis- 
covered, the  admiral  was  seized  with  the  first  symptoms  of  a  severe 
inflammatory  cold.  He  was  not  himself  aware,  nor  was  any  one  else, 
how  he  had  caught  the  chill.  The  doctor  was  sent  for,  and  kept 
the  inflammation  down  until  the  day  before  yesterday,  when  it  broke 
out  again,  under  circumstances  which  I  am  sure  you  will  be  sorry  to 
hear,  as  I  am  truly  sorry  to  write  of  them. 

"  On  the  date  I  have  just  mentioned — I  mean  the  fifteenth  of  the 
month — my  master  himself  informed  me  that  he  had  been  dreadful- 
ly disappointed  by  a  letter  received  from  you,  which  had  come  in 
the  morning  from  foreign  parts,  and  had  brought  him  bad  news. 
He  did  not  tell  me  what  the  news  was — but  I  have  never,  in  all  the 
years  I  have  passed  in  the  admiral's  service,  seen  him  so  distressing- 
ly upset,  and  so  unlike  himself,  as  he  was  on  that  day.  At  night  his 
uneasiness  seemed  to  increase.     He  was  in  such  a  state  of  irritation, 


566  NO    NAME. 

that  he  could  not  bear  the  sound  of  Mr.  Mazey's  hard  breathing  out- 
side his  door,  and  he  laid  his  positive  orders  on  the  old  man  to  go 
into  one  of  the  bedrooms  for  that  night.  Mr.  Mazey,  to  his  own 
great  regret,  was  of  course  obliged  to  obey. 

"  Our  only  means  of  preventing  the  admiral  from  leaving  his  room 
in  his  sleep,  if  the  fit  unfortunately  took  him,  being  now  removed, 
Mr.  Mazey  and  I  agreed  to  keep  watch  by  turns  through  the  night, 
sitting,  with  the  door  ajar,  in  one  of  the  empty  rooms  near  our  mas- 
ter's bed-chamber.  We  could  think  of  nothing  better  to  do  than 
this,  knowing  he  would  not  allow  us  to  lock  him  in,  and  not  having 
the  door  key  in  our  possession,  even  if  we  could  have  ventured  to  se- 
cure him  in  his  room  without  his  permission.  I  kept  watch  for  the 
first  two  hours,  and  then  Mr.  Mazey  took  my  place.  After  having 
been  come  little  time  in  my  own  room,  it  occurred  to  me  that  the  old 
man  was  hard  of  hearing,  and  that  if  his  eyes  grew  at  all  heavy  in 
the  night,  his  ears  were  not  to  be  trusted  to  warn  him  if  any  thing 
happened.  I  slipped  on  my  clothes  again,  and  went  back  to  Mr. 
Mazey.  He  was  neither  asleep  nor  awake — he  was  between  the  two. 
My  mind  misgave  me,  and  I  went  on  to  the  admiral's  room.  The 
door  was  open,  and  the  bed  was  empty. 

"  Mr.  Mazey  and  I  went  down  stairs  instantly.  We  looked  in  all 
the  north  rooms,  one  after  another,  and  found  no  traces  of  him.  I 
thought  of  the  drawing-room  next,  and,  being  the  most  active  of 
the  two,  went  first  to  examine  it.  The  moment  I  turned  the  sharp 
corner  of  the  passage,  I  saw  my  master  coming  toward  me  through 
the  open  drawing-room  door,  asleep  and  dreaming,  with  his  keys  in 
his  hands.  The  sliding  door  behind  him  was  open  also ;  and  the 
fear  came  to  me  then,  and  has  remained  with  me  ever  since,  that  his 
dream  had  led  him  through  the  Banqueting-hall  into  the  east  rooms. 
We  abstained  from  waking  him,  and  followed  his  steps  until  he  re- 
turned of  his  own  accord  to  his  bed-chamber.  The  next  morning, 
I  grieve  to  say,  all  the  bad  symptoms  came  back ;  and  none  of  the 
remedies  employed  have  succeeded  in  getting  the  better  of  them 
yet.  By  the  doctor's  advice,  we  refrained  from  telling  the  admiral 
what  had  happened.  He  is  still  under  the  impression  that  he  passed 
the  night  as  usual  in  his  own  room. 

"  I  have  been  careful  to  enter  into  all  the  particulars  of  this  un 
fortunate  accident,  because  neither  Mr.  Mazey  nor  myself  desire  to 
screen  ourselves  from  blame,  if  blame  we  have  deserved.  We  both 
acted  for  the  best,  and  we  both  beg  and  rjray  you  will  consider  our 
responsible  situation,  and  come  as  soon  as  possible  to  St.  Crux.  Our 
honored  master  is  very  hard  to  manage ;  and  the  doctor  thinks,  as 
we  do,  that  your  presence  is  wanted  in  the  house. 

"  I  remain,  sir,  with  Mr.  Mazey's  respects  and  my  own,  your  hum- 
ble servant,  Sophia  Dkakb." 


NO    NAME.  567 

V. 

From  George  Bartram  to  Miss  Garth. 

"  St.  Crux,  April  22d. 

"  Dear  Miss  Garth, — Pray  excuse  my  not  thanking  you  sooner 
for  your  kind  and  consoling  letter.  We  a?e  in  sad  trouble  at  St. 
Crux.  Any  little  irritation  I  might  have  felt  at  my  poor  uncle's 
unlucky  interference  in  Portland  Place  is  all  forgotten  in  the  mis- 
fortune of  his  serious  illness.  He  is  suffering  from  internal  inflam- 
mation, produced  by  cold ;  and  symptoms  have  shown  themselves 
which  are  dangerous  at  his  age.  A  physician  from  London  is  now 
in  the  house.  You  shall  hear  more  in  a  few  days.  Meantime,  be- 
lieve me,  with  sincere  gratitude, 

"  Yours  most  truly,  George  Bartram." 

VI. 

From,  Mr.  Loscombe  to  Mrs.  Noel  Vanstone. 

"Lincoln's  Inn  Fields,  May  6th. 

"  Dear  Madam, — I  have  unexpectedly  received  some  information 
which  is  of  the  most  vital  importance  to  your  interests.  The  news 
of  Admiral  Bartram's  death  has  reached  me  this  morning.  He  ex- 
pired at  his  own  house,  on  the  fourth  of  the  present  month. 

"  This  event  at  once  disposes  of  the  considerations  which  I  had 
previously  endeavored  to  impress  on  you,  in  relation  to  your  discov- 
ery at  St.  Crux.  The  wisest  course  we  can  now  follow  is  to  open 
communications  at  once  with  the  executors  of  the  deceased  gentle- 
man ;  addressing  them  through  the  medium  of  the  admiral's  legal 
adviser,  in  the  first  instance. 

"  I  have  dispatched  a  letter  this  day  to  the  solicitor  in  question. 
It  simply  warns  him  that  we  have  lately  become  aware  of  the  ex- 
istence of  a  private  Document,  controlling  the  deceased  gentleman 
in  his  use  of  the  legacy  devised  to  him  by  Mr.  Noel  Vanstone's  will. 
My  letter  assumes  that  the  document  will  be  easily  found  among 
the  admiral's  papers ;  and  it  mentions  that  I  am  the  solicitor  ap- 
pointed by  Mrs.  Noel  Vanstone  to  receive  communications  on  her 
behalf.  My  object  in  taking  this  step  is  to  cause  a  search  to  be  in- 
stituted for  the  Trust — in  the  very  probable  event  of  the  executors 
not  having  met  with  it  yet — before  the  usual  measures  are  adopted 
for  the  administration  of  the  admiral's  estate.  We  will  threaten 
legal  proceedings,  if  we  find  that  the  object  does  not  succeed.  But 
I  anticipate  no  such  necessity.  Admiral  Bartram's  executors  must 
be  men  of  high  standing  and  position  ;  and  they  will  do  justice  to 
you  and  to  themselves  in  this  matter  by  looking  for  the  Trust. 

"  Under  these  circumstances,  you  will  naturally  ask,  '  What  are 
•ur  prospects  when  the  document  is  found  ?'     Our  prospects  have 


568  NO   NAME. 

a  bright  side  and  a  dark  side.  Let  us  take  the  bright  side  to  begin 
with. 

"  What  do  we  actually  know  ? 

"  We  know,  first,  that  the  Trust  does  really  exist.  Secondly,  that 
there  is  a  provision  in  it  relating  to  the  marriage  of  Mr.  George  Bar- 
tram  in  a  given  time.  Thirdly,  that  the  time  (six  months  from  the 
date  of  your  husband's  death)  expired  on  the  third  of  this  month. 
Fourthly,  that  Mr.  George  Bartram  (as  I  have  found  out  by  inquiry, 
in  the  absence  of  any  positive  information  on  the  subject  possessed 
by  yourself)  is,  at  the  present  moment,  a  single  man.  The  conclu- 
sion naturally  follows,  that  the  object  contemplated  by  the  Trust,  in 
this  case,  is  an  object  that  has  failed. 

"  If  no  other  provisions  have  been  inserted  in  the  document — or 
if,  being  inserted,  those  other  provisions  should  be  discovered  to 
have  failed  also  —  I  believe  it  to  be  impossible  (especially  if  evi- 
dence can  be  found  that  the  admiral  himself  considered  the  Trust 
binding  on  him)  for  the  executors  to  deal  with  your  husband's  for- 
tune as  legally  forming  part  of  Admiral  Bartram's  estate.  The  leg- 
acy is  expressly  declared  to  have  been  left  to  him,  on  the  under- 
standing that  he  applies  it  to  certain  stated  objects — and  those  ob- 
jects have  failed.  What  is  to  be  done  with  the  money  ?  It  was 
not  left  to  the  admiral  himself,  on  the  testator's  own  showing ;  and 
the  purposes  for  which  it  was  left  have  not  been,  and  can  not  be, 
carried  out.  I  believe  (if  the  case  here  supposed  really  happens), 
that  the  money  must  revert  to  the  testator's  estate.  In  that  event, 
the  Law,  dealing  with  it  as  a  matter  of  necessity,  divides  it  into  two 
equal  portions.  One  half  goes  to  Mr.  Noel  Vanstone's  childless  wrid- 
ow,  and  the  other  half  is  divided  among  Mr.  Noel  Vanstone's  next 
of  kin. 

"  You  will  no  doubt  discover  the  obvious  objection  to  the  case  in 
our  favor,  as  I  have  here  put  it.  You  will  see  that  it  depends  for 
its  practical  realization  not  on  one  contingency,  but  on  a  series  of 
contingencies,  which  must  all  happen  exactly  as  we  wish  them  to 
happen.  I  admit  the  force  of  the  objection;  but  I  can  tell  you,  at 
the  same  time,  that  these  said  contingencies  are  by  no  means  so  im- 
probable as  they  may  look  on  the  face  of  them. 

"  We  have  every  reason  to  believe  that  the  Trust,  like  the  Will, 
was  not  drawn  by  a  lawyer.  That  is  one  circumstance  in  our  favoi 
—that  is  enough  of  itself  to  cast  a  doubt  on  the  soundness  of  all,  or 
any,  of  the  remaining  provisions  which  we  may  not  be  acquainted 
with.  Another  chance  which  we  may  count  on  is  to  be  found,  as 
I  think,  in  that  strange  handwriting,  placed  under  the  signature  on 
the  third  page  of  the  Letter,  which  you  saw,  but  which  you,  unhap- 
pily, omitted  to  read.  All  the  probabilities  point  to  those  lines  as 
written  by  Admiral  Bartram;  and  the  position  which  they  occupy 


NO   NAME.  669 

is  certainly  consistent  with  the  theory  that  they  touch  the  impor- 
tant subject  of  his  own  sense  of  obligation  under  the  Trust. 

"  I  wish  to  raise  no  false  hopes  in  your  mind.  I  only  desire  to 
satisfy  you  that  we  have  a  case  worth  trying. 

"As  for  the  dark  side  of  the  prospect,  I  need  not  enlarge  on  it. 
After  what  I  have  already  written,  you  will  understand  that  the 
existence  of  a  sound  provision,  unknown  to  us,  in  the  Trust,  which 
has  been  properly  carried  out  by  the  admiral — or  which  can  be  prop- 
erly carried  out  by  his  representatives — would  be  necessarily  fatal 
to  our  hopes.  The  legacy  would  be,  in  this  case,  devoted  to  the 
purpose  or  purposes  contemplated  by  your  husband — and,  from  that 
moment,  you  would  have  no  claim. 

"  I  have  only  to  add,  that  as  soon  as  I  hear  from  the  late  admiral's 
man  of  business,  you  shall  know  the  result. 

"  Believe  me,  dear  madam,  faithfully  yours, 

"John  Loscombe." 

VII. 

From  George  Bartram  to  Miss  Garth. 

"St.  Crux,  May  15th. 

"  Dear  Miss  Garth, — I  trouble  you  with  another  letter  :  partly 
to  thank  you  for  your  kind  expression  of  sympathy  with  me,  under 
the  loss  that  I  have  sustained ;  and  partly  to  tell  you  of  an  extraor- 
dinary application  made  to  my  uncle's  executors,  in  which  you  and 
Miss  Vanstone  may  both  feel  interested,  as  Mrs.  Noel  Vanstone  is 
directly  concerned  in  it. 

"  Knowing  my  own  ignorance  of  legal  technicalities,  I  inclose  a 
copy  of  the  application,  instead  of  trying  to  describe  it.  You  will 
notice,  as  suspicious,  that  no  explanation  is  given  of  the  manner  in 
which  the  alleged  discovery  of  one  of  my  uncle's  secrets  was  made, 
by  persons  who  are  total  strangers  to  him. 

"On  being  made  acquainted  with  the  circumstances,  the  execu- 
tors at  once  applied  to  me.  I  could  give  them  no  positive  informa- 
tion— for  my  uncle  never  consulted  me  on  matters  of  business.  But 
I  felt  in  honor  bound  to  tell  them,  that  during  the  last  six  months 
of  his  life,  the  admiral  had  occasionally  let  fall  expressions  of  impa- 
tience in  my  hearing,  which  led  to  the  conclusion  that  he  was  an- 
noyed by  a  private  responsibility  of  some  kind.  I  also  mentioned 
that  he  had  imposed  a  very  strange  condition  on  me — a  condition 
which,  in  spite  of  his  own  assurances  to  the  contrary,  I  was  per- 
suaded could  not  have  emanated  from  himself — of  marrying  within 
a  given  time  (which  time  has  now  expired),  or  of  not  receiving  from 
him  a  certain  sum  of  money,  which  I  believed  to  be  the  same  in 
amount  as  the  sum  bequeathed  to  him  in  my  cousin's  will.  The  ex- 
ecutors agreed  with  me  that  these  circumstances  gave  a  color  of 


570  NO   NAME. 

probability  to  an  otherwise  incredible  story ;  and  they  decided  that 
a  search  should  be  instituted  for  the  Secret  Trust,  nothing  in  the 
slightest  degree  resembling  this  same  Trust  having  been  discovered, 
up  to  that  time,  among  the  admiral's  papers. 

"  The  search  (no  trifle  in  such  a  house  as  this)  has  now  been  in 
full  progress  for  a  week.  It  is  superintended  by  both  the  executors, 
and  by  my  uncle's  lawyer,  who  is  personally,  as  well  as  profession- 
ally, known  to  Mr.  Loscombe  (Mrs.  Noel  Vanstone's  solicitor),  and 
who  has  been  included  in  the  proceedings  at  the  express  request  of 
Mr.  Loscombe  himself.  Up  to  this  time,  nothing  whatever  has  been 
found.  Thousands  and  thousands  of  letters  have  been  examined, 
and  not  one  of  them  bears  the  remotest  resemblance  to  the  letter  we 
are  looking  for. 

"  Another  week  will  bring  the  search  to  an  end.  It  is  only  at  my 
express  request  that  it  will  be  persevered  with  so  long.  But  as  the 
admiral's  generosity  has  made  me  sole  heir  to  every  thing  he  pos- 
sessed, I  feel  bound  to  do  the  fullest  justice  to  the  interests  of  oth- 
ers, however  hostile  to  myself  those  interests  may  be. 

"  With  this  view,  I  have  not  hesitated  to  reveal  to  the  lawyer  a 
constitutional  peculiarity  of  my  poor  uncle's,  which  was  always  kept 
a  secret  among  us  at  his  own  request — I  mean  his  tendency  to  som- 
nambulism. I  mentioned  that  he  had  been  discovered  (by  the  house- 
keeper and  his  old  servant)  walking  in  his  sleep,  about  three  weeks 
before  his  death,  and  that  the  part  of  the  house  in  which  he  had 
been  seen,  and  the  basket  of  keys  which  he  was  carrying  in  his 
hand,  suggested  the  inference  that  he  had  come  from  one  of  the 
rooms  in  the  east  wing,  and  that  he  might  have  opened  some  of  the 
pieces  of  furniture  in  one  of  them.  I  surprised  the  la*wyer  (who 
seemed  to  be  quite  ignorant  of  the  extraordinary  actions  constantly 
performed  by  somnambulists),  by  informing  him  that  my  uncle  could 
find  his  way  about  the  house,  lock  and  unlock  doors,  and  remove 
objects  of  all  kinds  from  one  place  to  another,  as  easily  in  his  sleep 
as  in  his  waking  hours.  And  I  declared  that,  while  I  felt  the  faint- 
est doubt  in  my  own  mind  whether  he  might  not  have  been  dream- 
ing of  the  Trust  on  the  night  in  question,  and  putting  the  dream  in 
action  in  his  sleep,  I  should  not  feel  satisfied  unless  the  rooms  in  the 
east  wing  were  searched  again. 

"  It  is  only  right  to  add  that  there  is  not  the  least  foundation  in 
fact  for  this  idea  of  mine.  During  the  latter  part  of  his  fatal  illness, 
my  poor  uncle  was  quite  incapable  of  speaking  on  any  subject  what- 
ever. From  the  time  of  my  arrival  at  St.  Crux,  in  the  middle  of  last 
month,  to  the  time  of  his  death,  not  a  word  dropped  from  him  which 
referred  in  the  remotest  way  to  the  Secret  Trust. 

"  Here  then,  for  the  present,  the  matter  rests.  If  you  think  it 
right  to  communicate  the  contents  of  this  letter  to  Miss  Vanstone, 


NO   NAME.  571 

pray  tell  her  that  it  will  not  be  rny  fault  if  her  sister's  assertion 
(however  preposterous  it  may  seem  to  my  uncle's  executors)  is  not 
fairly  put  to  the  proof. 

"  Believe  me,  dear  Miss  Garth,  always  truly  yours, 

"  George  Bartram. 
"  P.S. — As  soon  as  all  business  matters  are  settled,  I  am  going 
abroad  for  some  months,  to  try  the  relief  of  change  of  scene.  The 
house  will  be  shut  up,  and  left  under  the  charge  of  Mrs.  Drake.  I 
have  not  forgotten  your  once  telling  me  that  you  should  like  to  see 
St.  Crux,  if  you  ever  found  yourself  in  this  neighborhood.  If  you 
are  at  all  likely  to  be  in  Essex  during  the  time  when  I  am  abroad, 
I  have  provided  against  the  chance  of  your  being  disappointed,  by 
leaving  instructions  with  Mrs.  Drake  to  give  you,  and  any  friends 
of  yours,  the  freest  admission  to  the  house  and  grounds." 

VIII. 

From  Mr.  Loscombe  to  Mrs.  Noel  Vanstone. 

"Lincoln's  Inn  Fields,  May  24th. 

"  Dear  Madam, — After  a  whole  fortnight's  search  —  conducted, 
I  am  bound  to  admit,  with  the  most  conscientious  and  unrelaxing 
care — no  such  document  as  the  Secret  Trust  has  been  found  among 
the  papers  left  at  St.  Crux  by  the  late  Admiral  Bartram. 

"Under  these  circumstances,  the  executors  have  decided  on  act- 
ing under  the  only  recognizable  authority  which  they  have  to  guide 
them  —  the  admiral's  own  will.  This  document  (executed  some 
years  since)  bequeaths  the  whole  of  his  estate,  both  real  and  per- 
sonal (that  is  to  say,  all  the  lands  he  possesses,  and  all  the  money 
he  possesses,  at  the  time  of  his  death),  to  his  nephew.  The  will  is 
plain,  and  the  result  is  inevitable.  Your  husband's  fortune  is  lost 
to  you  from  this  moment.  Mr.  George  Bartram  legally  inherits  it, 
as  he  legally  inherits  the  house  and  estate  of  St.  Crux. 

"I  make  no  comment  upon  this  extraordinary  close  to  the  pro- 
ceedings. The  Trust  may  have  been  destroyed,  or  the  Trust  may 
be  hidden  in  some  place  of  concealment  inaccessible  to  discovery. 
Either  way,  it  is,  in  my  opinion,  impossible  to  found  any  valid  legal 
declaration  on  a  knowledge  of  the  document  so  fragmentary  and  so 
incomplete  as  the  knowledge  which  you  possess.  If  other  lawyers 
differ  from  me  on  this  point,  by  all  means  consult  them.  I  have  de- 
voted money  enough  and  time  enough  to  the  unfortunate  attempt 
to  assert  your  interests ;  and  my  connection  with  the  matter  must, 
from  this  moment,  be  considered  at  an  end. 

"  Your  obedient  servant,  John  Loscombe." 


572  NO    NAME. 

IX. 

From  Mrs.  Ruddock  {Lodging-house  Keeper)  to  Mr.  Loscombe. 

"Park  Terrace,  St.  John's  Wood,  Juue  2d. 

"  Sir, — Having,  by  Mrs.  Noel  Vanstone's  directions,  taken  letters 
for  her  to  the  post,  addressed  to  yon — and  knowing  no  one  else  to 
apply  to — I  beg  to  inquire  whether  you  are  acquainted  with  any  of 
her  friends;  for  I  think  it  right  that  they  should  be  stirred  up  to 
take  some  steps  about  her. 

"  Mrs.  Vanstone  first  came  to  me  in  November  last,  when  she  and 
her  maid  occupied  my  apartments.  On  that  occasion,  and  again 
on  this,  she  has  given  me  no  cause  to  complain  of  her.  She  has  be- 
haved like  a  lady,  and  paid  me  my  due.  I  am  writing,  as  a  mother 
of  a  family,  under  a  sense  of  responsibility — I  am  not  writing  with 
an  interested  motive. 

"  After  proper  warning  given,  Mrs.  Vanstone  (who  is  now  quite 
alone)  leaves  me  to-morrow.  She  has  not  concealed  from  me  that 
her  circumstances  are  fallen  very  low,  and  that  she  can  not  afford  to 
remain  in  my  house.  This  is  all  she  has  told  me — I  know  nothing 
of  where  she  is  going,  or  what  she  means  to  do  next.  But  I  have 
every  reason  to  believe  she  desires  to  destroy  all  traces  by  which 
she  might  be  found,  after  leaving  this  place — for  I  discovered  her 
in  tears  yesterday,  burning  letters  which  were  doubtless  letters  from 
her  friends.  In  looks  and  conduct  she  has  altered  most  shockingly 
in  the  last  week.  I  believe  there  is  some  dreadful  trouble  on  her 
mind ;  and  I  am  afraid,  from  what  I  see  of  her,  that  she  is  on  the 
eve  of  a  serious  illness.  It  is  very  sad  to  see  such  a  young  woman 
so  utterly  deserted  and  friendless  as  she  is  now. 

"  Excuse  my  troubling  you  with  this  letter ;  it  is  on  my  con- 
science to  write  it.  If  you  know  any  of  her  relations,  please  warn 
them  that  time  is  not  to  be  wasted.  If  they  lose  to-morrow,  they 
may  lose  the  last  chance  of  finding  her. 

"  Your  humble  servant,  Catherine  Ruddock." 

X. 

From  Mr.  Loscombe  to  Mrs.  Ruddock,. 

"Lincoln's  Inn  Fields,  June  2d. 
"  Madam, — My  only  connection  with  Mrs.  Noel  Vanstone  was  a 
professional  one,  and  that  connection  is  now  at  an  end.     I  am  not 
acquainted  with  any  of  her  friends ;  and  I  can  not  undertake  to  in- 
terfere personally,  either  with  her  present  or  future  proceedings. 

"  Regretting  my  inability  to  afford  you  any  assistance,  I  remain, 
your  obedient  servant,  John  Loscombe." 


NO   JNAA1K  573 


THE  LAST  SCENE. 

AARON'S  BUILDINGS. 

CHAPTER  I. 

On  the  seventh  of  June,  the  owners  of  the  merchantman  Delw- 
•  /■. iiifi  received  news  that  the  ship  had  touched  at  Plymouth  to 
Laud  passengers,  and  had  then  continued  her  homeward  voyage  to 
the  Port  of  London.  Five  days  later,  the  vessel  was  in  the  river, 
and  was  towed  into  the  East  India  Docks. 

Having  transacted  the  business  on  shore  for.^vhich  he  was  per- 
sonally responsible,  Captain  Kirke  made  the  necessary  arrangements 
by  letter,  for  visiting  his  brother-in-law's  parsonage  in  Suffolk,  on 
the  seventeenth  of  the  month.  As  usual  in  such  cases,  he  received 
a  list  of  commissions  to  execute  for  his  sister  on  the  day  before  he 
left  London.  One  of  these  commissions  took  him  into  the  neigh- 
borhood of  Camden  Town.  He  drove  to  his  destination  from  the 
Docks;  and  then,  dismissing  the  vehicle,  set  forth  to  walk  back 
southward,  toward  the  New  Road. 

He  was  not  well  acquainted  with  the  district ;  and  his  attention 
wandered  farther  and  farther  away  from  the  scene  around  him  as 
he  went  on.  His  thoughts,  roused  by  the  prospect  of  seeing  his  sis- 
ter again,  had  led  his  memory  back  to  the  night  when  he  had  part- 
ed from  her,  leaving  the  house  on  foot.  The  spell  so  strangely  laid 
on  him,  in  that  past  time,  had  kept  its  hold  through  all  after-events. 
The  face  that  had  haunted  him  on  the  lonely  road  had  haunted 
him  again  on  the  lonely  sea.  The  woman  who  had  followed  him, 
as  in  a  dream,  to  his  sister's  door,  had  followed  him — thought  of  his 
thought,  and  spirit  of  his  sjfirit — to  the  deck  of  his  ship.  Through 
storm  and  calm  on  the  voyage  out,  through  storm  and  calm  on  the 
voyage  home,  she  had  been  with  him.  In  the  ceaseless  turrnoil  of 
the  London  streets,  she  was  with  him  now.  He  knew  what  the  first 
question  on  his  lips  would  be,  when  he  had  seen  his  sister  and  her 
boys.  "  I  shall  try  to  talk  of  something  else,"  he  thought ;  "  but 
when  Lizzie  audi  are  alone,  it  will  come  out  in  spite  of  me." 

The  necessity  of  waiting  to  let  a  string  of  carts  pass  at  a  turning 
before  he  crossed  awakened  him  to  present  things.  He  looked 
about  in  a  momentary  confusion.  The  street  was  strange  to  him ; 
he  had  lost  his  way. 


574  NO    NAME. 

The  first  foot  passenger  of  whom  he  inquired  appeared  to  have 
no  time  to  waste  in  giving  information.  Hurriedly  directing  him 
to  cross  to  the  other  side  of  the  road,  to  turn  down  the  first  street 
he  came  to  on  his  right  hand,  and  then  to  ask  again,  the  stranger 
unceremoniously  hastened  on  without  waiting  to  be  thanked. 

Kirke  followed  his  directions  and  took  the  turning  on  his  right. 
The  street  was  short  and  narrow,  and  the  houses  on  either  side  were 
of  the  poorer  order.  He  looked  up  as  he  passed  the  corner  to  see 
what  the  name  of  the  place  might  be.  It  was  called  "Aaron's 
Buildings." 

Low  down  on  the  side  of  the  "  Buildings  "  along  which  he  was 
walking,  a  little  crowd  of  idlers  was  assembled  round  two  cabs, 
both  drawn  up  before  the  door  of  the  same  house.  Kirke  advanced 
to  the  crowd,  to  ask  his  way  of  any  civil  stranger  among  them  who 
might  not  be  in  a  hurry  this  time.  On  approaching  the  cabs,  he 
found  a  woman  disputing  with  the  drivers;  and  heard  enough  to 
inform  him  that  two  vehicles  had  been  sent  for  by  mistake,  where 
one  only  was  wanted. 

The  house  door  was  open  ;  and  when  he  turned  that  way  next, 
he  looked  easily  into  the  passage,  over  the  heads  of  the  people  in 
front  of  him. 

The  sight  that  met  his  eyes  should  have  been  shielded  in  pity 
from  the  observation  of  the  street.  He  saw  a  slatternly  girl,  with  a 
frightened  face,  standing  by  an  old  chair  placed  in  the  middle  of 
the  passage,  and  holding  a  woman  on  the  chair,  too  weak  and  help- 
less to  support  herself — a  woman  apparently  in  the  last  stage  of  ill- 
ness, who  was  about  to  be  removed,  when  the  dispute  outside  was 
ended,  in  one  of  the  cabs.  Her  head  was  drooping  when  he  first 
saw  her,  and  an  old  shawl  which  covered  it  had  fallen  forward  so 
as  to  hide  the  upper  part  of  her  face. 

Before  he  could  look  away  again,  the  girl  in  charge  of  her  raised 
her  head  and  restored  the  shawl  to  its  place.  The  action  disclosed 
her  face  to  view,  for  an  instant  only,  before  her  head  drooped  once 
more  on  her  bosom.  In  that  instant  he  saw  the  woman  whose 
beauty  was  the  haunting  remembrance  of  his  life — whose  image  had 
been  vivid  in  his  mind  not  five  minutes  since. 

The  shock  of  the  double  recognition — the  recognition,  at  the 
same  moment,  of  the  face,  and  of  the  dreadful  change  in  it — struck 
him  speechless  and  helpless.  The  steady  presence  of  mind  in  all 
emergencies  which  had  become  a  habit  of  his  life,  failed  him  for  the 
first  time.  The  poverty-stricken  street,  the  squalid  mob  round  the 
door,  swam  before  his  eyes.  He  staggered  back,  and  caught  at  the 
iron  railings  of  the  house  behind  him. 

"  Where  are  they  taking  her  to  ?"  he  heard  a  woman  ask,  close  at 
his  side. 


don't  distress  mamma  about  mk!"  she  said. 


NO   NAME.  577 

•'To  the  hospital,  if  they  will  have  her,"  was  the  reply.  "And  tc 
the  work-house,  if  they  won't." 

That  horrible  answer  roused  him.  He  pushed  his  way  through 
the  crowd  and  entered  the  house. 

The  misunderstanding  on  the  pavement  had  been  set  right,  and 
one  of  the  cabs  had  driven  off.  As  he  crossed  the  threshold  of  the 
door  he  confronted  the  people  of  the  house  at  the  moment  when 
they  were  moving  her.  The  cabman  who  had  remained  was  on  one 
side  of  the  chair,  and  the  woman  who  had  been  disputing  with  the 
two  drivers  was  on  the  other.  They  were  just  lifting  her,  when 
Kirke's  tall  figure  darkened  the  door. 

"  What  are  you  doing  with  that  lady  ?"  he  asked. 

The  cabman  looked  up  with  the  insolence  of  his  reply  visible  in 
his  eyes,  before  his  lips  could  utter  it.  But  the  woman,  quicker  than 
he,  saw  the  suppressed  agitation  in  Kirke's  face,  and  dropped  her 
hold  of  the  chair  in  an  instant. 

"  Do  you  know  her,  sir  ?"  asked  the  woman,  eagerly.  "  Are  you 
one  of  her  friends  ?" 

"  Yes,"  said  Kirke,  without  hesitation. 

"  It's  not  my  fault,  sir,"  pleaded  the  woman,  shrinking  under  the 
look  he  fixed  on  her.  "  I  would  have  waited  patiently  till  her 
friends  found  her — I  would,  indeed !" 

Kirke  made  no  reply.     He  turned,  and  spoke  to  the  cabman. 

"  Go  out,"  he  said,  "  and  close  the  door  after  you.  I'll  send  you 
down  your  money  directly.  What  room  in  the  house  did  you  take 
her  from,  when  you  brought  her  here  ?"  he  resumed,  addressing  him- 
self to  the  woman  again. 

"  The  first  floor  back,  sh\" 

"  Show  me  the  wTay  to  it." 

He  stooped,  and  lifted  Magdalen  in  his  arms.  Her  head  rested 
gently  on  the  sailor's  breast;  her  eyes  looked  up  wonderingly  into 
the  sailor's  face.  She  smiled,  and  whispered  to  him  vacantly.  Her 
mind  had  wandered  back  to  old  days  at  home ;  and  her  few  broken 
words  showed  that  she  fancied  herself  a  child  again  in  her  father's 
arms.  "Poor  papa !"  she  said,  softly.  "Why  do  you  look  so  sorry  ? 
Poor  papa  !" 

The  woman  led  the  way  into  the  back  room  on  the  first  floor.  It 
was  very  small ;  it  was  miserably  furnished.  But  the  little  bed  was 
clean,  and  the  few  things  in  the  room  were  neatly  kept.  Kirke  laid 
her  tenderly  on  the  bed.  She  caught  one  of  his  hands  in  her  burn- 
ing fingers.  "  Don't  distress  mamma  about  me,"  she  said.  "  Send 
for  Norah."  Kirke  tried  gently  to  release  his  hand ;  but  she  only 
clasped  it  the  more  eagerly.  He  sat  down  by  the  bedside  to.  wait 
until  it  pleased  her  to  release  him.  The  woman  stood  looking  at 
tnem  and  crying,  in  a  corner  of  the  room.      Kirke  observed 'her  at' 


578  NO    NAME. 

tentively.  "  Speak,"  he  said,  after  an  interval,  in  low,  quiet  tones. 
"  Speak  in  her  presence  ;  and  tell  me  the  truth." 

With  many  words,  with  many  tears,  the  woman  spoke. 

She  had  let  her  first  floor  to  the  lady  a  fortnight  since.  The  lady 
had  paid  a  week's  rent,  and  had  given  the  name  of  Gray.  She  had 
been  out  from  morning  till  night,  for  the  first  three  days,  and  had 
come  home  again,  on  every  occasion,  with  a  wretchedly  weary,  dis- 
appointed look.  The  woman  of  the  house  had  suspected  that  she 
was  in  hiding  from  her  friends,  under  a  false  name  ;  and  that  she 
had  been  vainly  trying  to  raise  money,  or  to  get  some  employment, 
on  the  three  days  when  she  was  out  for  so  long,  and  when  she  looked 
so  disappointed  on  coming  home.  However  that  might  be,  on  the 
fourth  day  she  had  fallen  ill,  with  shivering  fits  and  hot  fits,  turn 
and  turn  about.  On  the  fifth  day  she  was  worse ;  and  on  the  sixth-, 
she  was  too  sleepy  at  one  time,  and  too  light-headed  at  another  to 
be  spoken  to.  The  chemist  (who  did  the  doctoring  in  those  parts) 
had  come  and  looked  at  her,  and  had  said  he  thought  it  was  a  bad 
fever.  He  had  left  a  "  saline  draught,"  which  the  woman  of  the 
house  had  paid  for  out  of  her  own  pocket,  and  had  administered 
without  effect.  She  had  ventured  on  searching  the  only  box  which 
the  lady  had  brought  with  her;  and  had  found  nothing -in  it  but  a 
few  necessary  articles  of  linen  —  no  dresses,  no  ornaments,  not  so 
much  as  the  fragment  of  a  letter  which  might  help  in  discovering 
her  friends.  Between  the  risk  of  keeping  her  under  these  circum- 
stances, and  the  barbarity  of  turning  a  sick  woman  into  the  street, 
the  landlady  herself  had  not  hesitated.  She  would  willingly  have 
kept  her  tenant,  on  the  chance  of  the  lady's  recovery,  and  on  the 
chance  of  friends  turning  up.  But  not  half  an  hour  since,  her  hus- 
band— who  never  came  near  the  house,  except  to  take  her  money — 
had  come  to  rob  her  of  her  little  earnings,  as  usual.  She  had  been 
obliged  to  tell  him  that  no  rent  was  in  hand  for  the  first  floor,  and 
that  none  was  likely  to  be  in  hand  until  the  lady  recovered,  or  her 
friends  found  her.  On  hearing  this,  he  had  mercilessly  insisted — 
well  or  ill — that  the  lady  should  go.  There  was  the  hospital  to 
take  her  to ;  and  if  the  hospital  shut  its  doors,  there  was  the  work- 
house to  try  next.  If  she  was  not  out  of  the  place  in  an  hour's 
time,  he  threatened  to  come  back  and  take  her  out  himself.  His 
wife  knew  but  too  well  that  he  was  brute  enough  to  be  as  good  as 
his  word  ;  and  no  other  choice  had  been  left  her  but  to  do  as  she 
had  done,  for  the  sake  of  the  lady  herself. 

The  woman  told  her  shocking  story,  with  every  appearance  of  be- 
ing honestly  ashamed  of  it.  Toward  the  end,  Kirke  felt  the  clasp 
of  the  burning  fingers  slackening  round  his  hand.  He  looked  back 
at  the  bed  again.  Her  weary  eyes  were  closing ;  and,  with  her  face 
still  turned  toward  the  sailor,  she  was  sinking  into  sleep. 


NO    NAME.  579 

"  Ih  there  any  one  in  the  front  room  ?"  said  Kirke,  in  a  whisper. 
"  Come  in  there ;  I  have  something  to  say  to  you." 

The  woman  followed  him  through  the  door  of  communicatiac  be- 
tween the  rooms. 

"  How  much  does  she  owe  you  ?"  he  asked. 

The  landlady  mentioned  the  sum.  Kirke  put  it  down  before  her 
on  the  table. 

"  Where  is  your  husband  ?"  was  his  next  question. 

"  Waiting  at  the  public-house,  sir,  till  the  hour  is  up." 

"  You  can  take  him  the  money,  or  not,  as  you  think  right,"  said 
Kirke,  quietly.  "  I  have  only  one  thing  to  tell  you,  as  far  as  your 
husband  is  concerned.  If  you  want  to  see  every  bone  in  his  skin 
broken,  let  him  come  to  the  house  while  I  am  in  it.  Stop  !  I  have 
something  more  to  say.  Do  you  know  of  any  doctor  in  the  neigh- 
borhood who  can  be  depended  on  ?" 

"  Not  in  our  neighborhood,  sir.  But  I  know  of  one  within  half 
an  hour's  walk  of  us." 

"  Take  the  cab  at  the  door ;  and,  if  you  find  him  at  home,  bring 
him  back  in  it.  Say  I  am  waiting  here  for  his  opinion  on  a  very 
serious  case.  He  shall  be  well  paid,  and  you  shall  be  well  paid. 
Make  haste !" 

The  woman  left  the  room. 

Kirke  sat  down  alone,  to  wait  for  her  return.  He  hid  his  face  in 
his  hands,  and  tried  to  realize  the  strange  and  touching  situation 
in  which  the  accident  of  a  moment  had  placed  him. 

Hidden  in  the  squalid  by-ways  of  London  under  a  false  name ; 
cast,  friendless  and  helpless,  on  the  mercy  of  strangers,  by  illness 
which  had  struck  her  prostrate,  mind  and  body  alike — so  he  met 
her  again,  the  woman  who  had  opened  a  new  world  of  beauty  to 
his  mind ;  the  woman  who  had  called  Love  to  life  in  him  by  a 
look  !  What  horrible  misfortune  had  struck  her  so  cruelly,  and 
struck  her  so  low  ?  What  mysterious  destiny  had  guided  him  to 
the  last  refuge  of  her  poverty  and  despair,  in  the  hour  Sf  her  sorest 
need  ?  "  If  it  is  ordered  that  I  am  to  see  her  again,  I  shall  see  her." 
Those  words  came  back  to  him  now — the  memorable  words  that  he 
had  spoken  to  his  sister  at  parting.  With  that  thought  in  his  heart, 
he  had  gone  where  his  duty  called  him.  Months  and  months  had 
passed  ;  thousands  and  thousands  of  miles,  protracting  their  deso- 
late length  on  the  unresting  waters,  had  rolled  between  them.  And 
through  the  lapse  of  time,  and  over  the  waste  of  oceans — day  after 
day,  and  night  after  night,  as  the  winds  of  heaven  blew,  and  the 
good  ship  toiled  on  before  them — he  had  advanced  nearer  and  near- 
er to  the  end  that  was  waiting  for  him ;  he  had  journeyed  blindfold 
to  the  meeting  on  the  threshold  of  that  miserable  door.  "  What 
has  brought  me  here  ?"  he  said  to  himself  in  a  whisper.  "  The  mercy 
of  chance  ?     No.     The  mercy  of  God." 


580  NO    NAME. 

He  waited,  unregardful  of  the  place,  unconscious  of  the  time,  until 
the  sound  of  footsteps  on  the  stairs  came  suddenly  between  him  and 
his  thoughts.  The  door  opened,  and  the  doctor  was  shown  into  the 
room. 

"  Dr.  Merrick,"  said  the  landlady,  placing  a  chair  for  him. 

u  Mr.  Merrick,"  said  the  visitor,  smiling  quietly  as  he  took  the 
chair.     "  I  am  not  a  physician— I  am  a  surgeon  in  general  practice." 

Physician  or  surgeon,  there  was  something  in  his  face  and  manner 
which  told  Kirke  at  a  glance  that  he  was  a  man  to  be  relied  on. 

After  a  few  preliminary  words  on  either  side,  Mr.  Merrick  sent 
the  landlady  into  the  bedroom  to  see  if  his  patient  was  awake  or 
asleep.  The  woman  returned,  and  said  she  was  "  betwixt  the  two, 
light  in  the  head  again,  and  burning  hot."  The  doctor  went  at 
once  into  the  bedroom,  telling  the  landlady  to  follow  him,  and  to 
close  the  door  behind  her. 

A  weary  time  passed  before  he  came  back  into  the  front  room. 
When  he  re-appeared,  his  face  spoke  for  him,  before  any  question 
could  be  asked. 

"  Is  it  a  serious  illness  ?"  said  Kirke,  his  voice  sinking  low,  his 
eyes  anxiously  fixed  on  the  doctor's  face. 

"  It  is  a  dangerous  illness,"  said  Mr.  Merrick,  with  an  emphasis  on 
the  word. 

He  drew  his  chair  nearer  to  Kirke,  and  looked  at  him  attentively. 

"  May  I  ask  you  some  questions  which  are  not  strictly  medical  ?" 
he  inquired. 

Kirke  bowed. 

"  Can  you  tell  me  what  her  life  has  been  before  she  came  into  this 
house,  and  before  she  fell  ill  ?" 

"  I  have  no  means  of  knowing.  I  have  just  returned  to  England 
after  a  long  absence." 

u  Did  you  know  of  her  coming  here  ?" 

"  I  only  discovered  it  by  accident." 

"  Has  she  mo  female  relations  ?  No  mother  ?  no  sister  ?  no  one  to 
take  care  of  her  but  yourself?"    • 

"  No  one — unless  I  can  succeed  in  tracing  her  relations.  No  one 
but  myself." 

Mr.  Merrick  was  silent.  He  looked  at  Kirke  more  attentively 
than  ever.  "  Strange  !"  thought  the  doctor.  "  He  is  here,  in  sole 
charge  of  her— and  is  this  all  he  knows  ?" 

Kirke  saw  the  doubt  in  his  face ;  and  addressed  himself  straight 
to  that  doubt,  before  another  word  passed  between  them. 

"I  see  my  position  here  surprises  you,"  he  said,  simply.  "Will 
you  consider  it  the  position  of  a  relation — the  position  of  her  broth- 
er or  her  father — until  her  friends  can  be  found  ?"  His  voice  1;:l 
tered,  and  he  laid  his  hand  earnestly  on  the  doctor's  arm.     "  I  have 


NO   NAME.  581 

taken  this  trust  on  myself,"  he  said;  "and,  as  God  shall  judge  me, 
I  will  not  be  unworthy  of  it  I" 

The  poor  weary  head  lay  on  his  breast  again,  the  poor  fevered 
fingers  clasped  his  hand  once  more,  as  he  spoke  those  words. 

"  I  believe  you,"  said  the  doctor,  warmly.  "  I  believe  you  are  an 
honest  man. — Pardon  me  if  I  have  seemed  to  intrude  myself  on  your 
confidence.  I  respect  your  reserve — from  this  moment  it  is  sacred 
to  me.  In  justice  to  both  of  us,  let  me  say  that  the  questions  I  have 
asked  were  not  prompted  by  mere  curiosity.  No  common  cause  will 
account  for  the  illness  which  has  laid  my  patient  on  that  bed.  She 
has  suffered  some  long-continued  mental  trial,  some  wearing  and 
terrible  suspense — and  she  has  broken  down  under  it.  It  might 
have  helped  me  if  I  could  have  known  what  the  nature  of  the  trial 
was,  and  how  long  or  how  short  a  time  elapsed  before  she  sank  un- 
der it.     In  that  hope  I  spoke." 

"  When  you  told  me  she  was  dangerously  ill,"  said  Kirke,  "  did 
you  mean  danger  to  her  reason  or  to  her  life  ?" 

"  To  both,"  replied  Mr.  Merrick.  "  Her  whole  nervous  system  has 
given  way  ;  all  the  ordinary  functions  of  her  brain  are  in  a  state  of 
collapse.  I  can  give  you  no  plainer  explanation  than  that  of  the  na- 
ture of  the  malady.  The  fever  which  frightens  the  people  of  the 
house  is  merely  the  effect.  The  cause  is  what  I  have  told  you. 
She  may  lie  on  that  bed  for  weeks  to  come ;  passing  alternately, 
without  a  gleam  of  consciousness,  from  a  state  of  delirium  to  a  state 
of  repose.  You  must  not  be  alarmed  if  you  find  her  sleep  lasting 
far  beyond  the  natural  time.  That  sleep  is  a  better  remedy  than  any 
I  can  give,  and  nothing  must  disturb  it.  All  our  art  can  accom- 
plish is  to  watch  her,  to  help  her  with  stimulants  from  time  to  time, 
and  to  wait  for  what  Nature  will  do." 

"  Must  she  remain  here  ?  Is  there  no  hope  of  our  being  able  to 
remove  her  to  a  better  place  ?" 

"  No  hope  whatever,  for  the  present.  She  has  already  been  dis- 
turbed, as  I  understand,  and  she  is  seriously  the  worse  for  it.  Even 
if  she  gets  better,  even  if  she  comes  to  herself  again,  it  would  still 
be  a  dangerous  experiment  to  move  her  too  soon — the  least  excite- 
ment or  alarm  would  be  fatal  to  her.  You  must  make  the  best  of 
this  place  as  it  is.  The  landlady  has  my  directions  ;  and  I  will  send 
a  good  nurse  to  help  her.  There  is  nothing  more  to  be  done.  So 
far  as  her  life  can  be  said  to  be  in  any  human  hands,  it  is  as  much 
in  your  hands  now  as  in  mine.  Every  thing  depends  on  the  care 
that  is  taken  of  her,  under  your  direction,  in  this  house."  With 
those  farewell  words  he  rose  and  quitted  the  room. 

Left  by  himself,  Kirke  walked  to  the  door  of  communication, 
and,  knocking  at  it  softly,  told  the  landlady  he  wished  to  speak 
with  her. 


682  NO   NAME. 

He  was  far  more  composed,  far  more  like  his  own  resolute  self, 
after  his  interview  with  the  doctor,  than  he  had  been  before  it.  A 
man  living  in  the  artificial  social  atmosphere  which  this  man  had 
never  breathed  would  have  felt  painfully  the  worldly  side  of  the 
situation — its  novelty  and  strangeness  ;  the  serious  present  difficulty 
in  which  it  placed  him ;  the  numberless  misinterpretations  in  the 
future  to  which  it  might  lead.  Kirke  never  gave  the  situation  a 
thought.  He  saw  nothing  but  the  duty  it  claimed  from  him — a 
duty  which  the  doctor's  farewell  words  had  put  plainly  before  his 
mind.  Every  thing  depended  on  the  care  taken  of  her,  under  his 
direction,  in  that  house.  There  was  his  responsibility,  and  he  un- 
consciously acted  under  it,  exactly  as  he  would  have  acted  in  a  case 
of  emergency  with  women  and  children  on  board  his  own  ship.  He 
questioned  the  landlady  in  short,  sharp  sentences :  the  only  change 
in  him  was  in  the  lowered  tone  of  his  voice,  and  in  the  anxious 
looks  which  he  cast,  from  time  to  time,  at  the  room  where  she  lay. 

"  Do  you  understand  what  the  doctor  has  told  you  ?" 

"  Yes,  sir." 

"  The  house  must  be  kept  quiet.     Who  lives  in  the  house  ?" 

"  Only  me  and  my  daughter,  sir  ;  we  live  in  the  parlors.  Times 
have  gone  badly  with  us  since  Lady  Day.  Both  the  rooms  above 
this  are  to  let." 

"  I  will  take  them  both,  and  the  two  rooms  down  here  as  well. 
Do  you  know  of  any  active  trustworthy  man  who  can  run  on  er- 
rands for  me  ?" 

"Yes,  sir.     Shall  I  go— ?" 

"  No  ;  let  your  daughter  go.  You  must  not  leave  the  house  until 
the  nurse  comes.  Don't  send  the  messenger  up  here.  Men  of  that 
sort  tread  heavily.     I'll  go  down,  and  speak  to  him  at  the  door." 

He  went  down  when  the  messenger  came,  and  sent  him  first  to 
purchase  pen,  ink,  and  paper.  The  man's  next  errand  dispatched 
him  to  make  inquiries  for  a  person  who  could  provide  for  deaden- 
ing the  sound  of  passing  wheels  in  the  street  by  laying  down  tan 
before  the  house  in  the  usual  way.  This  object  accomplished,  the 
messenger  received  two  letters  to  post.  The  first  was  addressed  to 
Kirke's  brother-in-law.  It  told  him,  in  few  and  plain  words,  what 
had  happened ;  and  left  him  to  break  the  news  to  his  wife  as  he 
thought  best.  The  second  letter  was  directed  to  the  landlord  of 
the  Aldborough  Hotel.  Magdalen's  assumed  name  at  North  Shin- 
gles was  the  only  name  by  which  Kirke  knew  her ;  and  the  one 
chance  of  tracing  her  relatives  that  he  could  discern  was  the  chance 
of  discovering  her  reputed  uncle  and  aunt  by  means  of  inquiries 
starting  from  Aldborough. 

Toward  the  close  of  the  afternoon  a  decent  middle-aged  woman 
came  to  the  house,  with  a  letter  from  Mr.  Merrick.     She  was  well 


NO   NAME.  583 

known  to  the  doctor  as  a  trustworthy  and  careful  person,  who  had 
nursed  his  own  wife  ;  and  she  would  be  assisted,  from  time  to  time, 
by  a  lady  who  was  a  member  of  a  religious  Sisterhood  in  the  dis- 
trict, and  whose  compassionate  interest  had  been  warmly  aroused 
in  the  case.  Toward  eight  o'clock  that  evening  the  doctor  him- 
self would  call  and  see  that  his  patient  wanted  for  nothing. 

The  arrival  of  the  nurse,  and  the  relief  of  knowing  that  she  was 
to  be  trusted,  left  Kirke  free  to  think  of  himself.  His  luggage  was 
ready  packed  for  his  contemplated  journey  to  Suffolk  the  next  day. 
It  was  merely  necessary  to  transport  it  from  the  hotel  to  the  house 
in  Aaron's  Buildings. 

He  stopped  once  only  on  his  way  to  the  hotel  to  look  at  a  toy- 
shop in  one  of  the  great  thoroughfares.  The  miniature  ships  in  the 
window  reminded  him  of  his  nephew.  "  My  little  namesake  will  be 
sadly  disappointed  at  not  seeing  me  to-morrow,"  he  thought.  "I 
must  make  it  up  to  the  boy  by  sending  him  something  from  his  un- 
cle." He  went  into  the  shop  and  bought  one  of  the  ships.  It  was 
secured  in  a  box,  and  packed  and  directed  in  his  presence.  He  put 
a  card  on  the  deck  of  the  miniature  vessel  before  the  cover  of  the 
box  was  nailed  on,  bearing  this  inscription  :  "A  ship  for  the  little 
sailor,  with  the  big  sailor's  love." — "  Children  like  to  be  written  to, 
ma'am,"  he  said,  apologetically,  to  the  woman  behind  the  counter. 
"  Send  the  box  as  soon  as  you  can — I  am  anxious  the  boy  should 
get  it  to-morrow." 

Toward  the  dusk  of  the  evening  he  returned  with  his  luggage  to 
Aaron's  Buildings.  He  took  off  his  boots  in  the  passage,  and  car- 
ried his  trunk  up  stairs  himself;  stopping,  as  he  passed  the  first 
floor,  to  make  his  inquiries.  Mr.  Merrick  was  present  to  answer 
them. 

"  She  was  awake  and  wandering,"  said  the  doctor,  "  a  few  min- 
utes since.  But  we  have  succeeded  in  composing  her,  and  she  is 
sleeping  now." 

"  Have  no  words  escaped  her,  sir,  which  might  help  us  to  find  her 
friends  ?" 

Mr.  Merrick  shook  his  head. 

"  Weeks  and  weeks  may  pass  yet,"  he  said,  "  and  that  poor  girl's 
story  may  still  be  a  sealed  secret  to  all  of  us.     We  can  only  wait." 

So  the  day  ended — the  first  of  many  days  that  were  to  come. 


CHAPTER  n. 

The  warm  sunlight  of  July  shining  softly  through  a  green  blind ; 
an  open  window  with  fresh  flowers  set  on  the  sill ;  a  strange  bed,  in 
a  strange  room ;  a  giant  figure  of  the  female  sex  (like  a  dream  of  Mrs. 


584  NO   NAME. 

Wragge)  towering  aloft  on  one  side  of  the  bed,  and  trying  to  clap 
its  hands ;  another  woman  (quickly)  stopping  the  hands  before  they 
could  make  any  noise ;  a  mild  expostulating  voice  (like  a  dream  of 
Mrs.  Wragge  again)  breaking  the  silence  in  these  words, "  She  knows 
me,  ma'am,  she  knows  me ;  if  I  mustn't  be  happy,  it  will  be  the  death 
of  me  !" — such  were  the  first  sights,  such  were  the  first  sounds,  to 
which,  after  six  weeks  of  oblivion,  Magdalen  suddenly  and  strange- 
ly awoke. 

After  a  little,  the  sights  grew  dim  again,  and  the  sounds  sank  into 
silence.  Sleep,  the  merciful,  took  her  once  more,  and  hushed  her 
back  to  repose. 

Another  day — and  the  sights  were  clearer,  the  sounds  were  loud- 
er. Another — and  she  heard  a  man's  voice,  through  the  door,  ask- 
ing for  news  from  the  sick-room.  The  voice  was  strange  to  her ;  it 
was  always  cautiously  lowered  to  the  same  quiet  tone.  It  inquired 
after  her,  in  the  morning,  when  she  woke — at  noon,  when  she  took 
her  refreshment — in  the  evening,  before  she  dropped  asleep  again. 
"  Who  is  so  anxious  about  me  ?"  That  was  the  first  thought  her 
mind  was  strong  enough  to  form — "  Who  is  so  anxious  about  me  ?" 

More  days — and  she  could  speak  to  the  nurse  at  her  bedside ;  she 
could  answer  the  questions  of  an  elderly  man,  who  knew  far  more 
about  her  than  she  knew  about  herself,  and  who  told  her  he  was 
Mr.  Merrick,  the  doctor ;  she  could  sit  up  in  bed,  supported  by  pil- 
lows, wondering  what  had  hajjpened  to  her,  and  where  she  was ; 
she  could  feel  a  growing  curiosity  about  that  quiet  voice,  which  still 
asked  after  her,  morning,  noon,  and  night,  on  the  other  side  of  the 
door. 

Another  day's  delay — and  Mr.  Merrick  asked  her  if  she  was  strong 
enough  to  see  an  old  friend.  A  meek  voice,  behind  him,  articula- 
ting high  in  the  air,  said,  "  It's  only  me."  The  voice  was  followed 
by  the  prodigious  bodily  apparition  of  Mrs.  Wragge.  with  her  cap 
all  awry,  and  one  of  her  shoes  in  the  next  room.  "  Oh,  look  at  her! 
look  at  her !"  cried  Mrs.  Wragge,  in  an  ecstasy,  dropping  on  her 
knees  at  Magdalen's  bedside,  with  a  thump  that  shook  the  house. 
"  Bless  her  heart,  she's  well  enough  to  laugh  at  me  already.  '  Cheer, 
boys,  cheer— !'  I  beg  your  pardon,  doctor,  my  conduct  isn't  lady- 
like, I  know.  It's  my  head,  sir ;  it  isn't  me.  I  must  give  vent  some- 
how, or  my  head  will  burst !"  No  coherent  sentence,  in  answer  to 
any  sort  of  question  put  to  her,  could  be  extracted  that  morning 
from  Mrs.  Wragge.  She  rose  from  one  climax  of  verbal  confusion 
to  another — and  finished  her  visit  under  the  bed,  groping  inscruta- 
bly for  the  second  shoe. 

The  morrow  came — and  Mr.  Merrick  promised  that  she  should  see 
another  old  friend  on  the  next  day.  In  the  evening,  when  the  in- 
quiring voice  asked  after  her,  as  usual,  and  when  the  door  was 


NO     N  \MK.  585 

opened  a  few  inches  to  give  the  replyjShe  answered  faintly  for  her- 
self: "I  am  better,  thank  you."  There  was  a  moment  of  silence — 
and  then, just  as  the  door  was  shut  again, the  voice  sank  to  a  whis- 
per, and  said,  fervently,  "Thank  God!"  Who  was  he?  She  had 
asked  them  all,  and  no  one  would  tell  her.     Who  was  he  ? 

The  next  day  came ;  and  she  heard  her  door  opened  softly. 
Brisk  footsteps  tripped  into  the  room ;  a  lithe  little  figure  advanced 
to  the  bedside.  Was  it  a  dream  again  ?  No !  There  he  was  in  his 
own  evergreen  reality,  with  the  copious  flow  of  language  pouring 
smoothly  from  his  lips;  with  the  lambent  dash  of  humor  twinkling 
in  his  party-colored  eyes — there  he  was,  more  audacious,  more  per- 
suasive, more  respectable  than  ever,  in  a  suit  of  glossy  black,  with  a 
speckless  white  cravat,  and  a  rampant  shirt  frill — the  unblushing, 
the  invincible,  unchangeable  Wragge  ! 

"Not  a  word,  my  dear  girl!"  said  the  captain,  seating  himself 
comfortably  at  the  bedside,  in  his  old  confidential  way.  "  I  am  to 
do  all  the  talking ;  and,  I  think  you  will  ownr  a  more  competent 
man  for  the  purpose  could  not  possibly  have  been  found.  I  am  re- 
ally delighted — honestly  delighted,  if  I  may  use  such  an  apparently 
inappropriate  word — to  see  you  again,  and  to  see  you  getting  well. 
I  have  often  thought  of  you  ;  I  have  often  missed  you ;  I  have  often 
said  to  myself — never  mind  what!  Clear  the  stage,  and  drop  the 
curtain  on  the  past.  Dum  rivimus,viva?nus!  Pardon  the  pedantry 
of  a  Latin  quotation,  my  dear,  and  tell  me  how  I  look.  Am  I,  or 
am  I  not,  the  picture  of  a  prosperous  man  ?" 

Magdalen  attempted  to  answer  him.  The  captain's  deluge  of 
words  flowed  over  her  again  in  a  moment. 

"  Don't  exert  yourself,"  he  said.  "  I'll  put  all  your  questions  for 
you.  What  have  I  been  about  ?  Why  do  I  look  so  remarkably 
well  off  ?  And  how  in  the  world  did  I  find  my  way  to  this  house  ? 
My  dear  girl,  I  have  been  occupied,  since  we  last  saw  each  other,  in 
slig-htly  modifying  my  old  professional  habits.  I  have  shifted  from 
Moral  Agriculture  to  Medical  Agriculture.  Formerly  I  preyed  on 
the  public  sympathy,  now  I  prey  on  the  public  stomach.  Stom- 
ach and  sympathy,  sympathy  and  stomach— look  them  both  fairly 
in  the  face  when  you  reach  the  wrong  side  of  fifty,  and  you  will 
agree  with  me  that  they  come  to  much  the  same  thing.  However 
that  may  be,  here  I  am — incredible  as  it  may  appear — a  man  with 
an  income,  at  last.  The  founders  of  my  fortune  are  three  in  num- 
ber. Their  names  are  Aloes,  Scammony,  and  Gamboge.  In  jilain- 
er  words,  I  am  now  living — on  a  Pill.  I  made  a  little  money  (if 
you  remember)  by  my  friendly  connection  with  you.  I  made  a  lit- 
tle more  by  the  happy  decease  (  Requiescat  in  Pure.')  of  that  female 
relative  of  Mrs.  Wragge's  from  whom,  as  I  told  you,  my  wife  had 
expectations.     Very  good.     What  do  you  think  I  did  ?     I  invested 


586  NO    NAME. 

the  whole  of  my  capital,  at  one  fell  swoop,  in  advertisements,  and 
purchased  my  drugs  and  my  pill-boxes  on  credit.  The  result  is 
now  before  you.  Here  I  am,  a  Grand  Financial  Fact.  Here  I  am, 
with  my  clothes  positively  paid  for  ;  with  a  balance  at  my  banker's ; 
with  my  servant  in  livery,  and  my  gig  at  the  door  ;  solvent,  flourish- 
ing, popular — and  all  on  a  Pill." 

Magdalen  smiled.  The  captain's  face  assumed  an  expression  of 
mock  gravity  ;  he  looked  as  if  there  was  a  serious  side  to  the  ques- 
tion, and  as  if  he  meant  to  put  it  next. 

"  It's  no  laughing  matter  to  the  public,  my  dear,"  he  said.  "  They 
can't  get  rid  of  me  and  my  Pill ;  they  must  take  us.  There  is  not 
a  single  form  of  appeal  in  the  whole  range  of  human  advertisement 
which  I  am  not  making  to  the  unfortunate  public  at  this  moment. 
Hire  the  last  new  novel,  there  I  am,  inside  the  boards  of  the  book. 
Send  for  the  last  new  Song — the  instant  you  open  the  leaves,  I  drop 
out  of  it.  Take  a  cab — I  fly  in  at  the  window  in  red.  Buy  a  box  of 
tooth-powder  at  the  chemist's — I  wrap  it  up  for  you  in  blue.  Show 
yourself  at  the  theatre — I  flutter  down  on  you  in  yellow.  The  mere 
titles  of  my  advertisements  are  quite  irresistible.  Let  me  quote  a 
few  from  last  week's  issue.  Proverbial  Title :  '  A  Pill  in  time  saves 
Nine.'  Familiar  Title  :  '  Excuse  me,  how  is  your  Stomach  V  Pa- 
triotic Title :  '  What  are  the  three  characteristics  of  a  true-born 
Englishman?  His  Hearth,  his  Home,  and  his  Pill.'  Title  in  the 
form  of  a  nursery  dialogue  :  '  Mamma,  I  am  not  well.'  '  What  is 
the  matter,  my  pet  ?'  '  I  want  a  little  Pill.'  Title  in  the  form  of  a 
Historical  Anecdote :  '  New  Discovery  in  the  Mine  of  English  His- 
tory. When  the  Princes  were  smothered  in  the  Tower,  their  faith- 
ful attendant  collected  all  their  little  possessions  left  behind  them. 
Among  the  touching  trifles  dear  to  the  poor  boys,  he  found  a  tiny 
Box.  It  contained  the  Pill  of  the  Period.  Is  it  necessary  to  say 
how  inferior  that  Pill  was  to  its  Successor,  which  prince  and  peas- 
ant alike  may  now  obtain  ?' — Et  csetera,  et  caetera.  The  place  in 
which  my  Pill  is  made  is  an  advertisement  in  itself.  I  have  got  one 
of  the  largest  shops  in  London.  Behind  one  counter  (visible  to  the 
public  through  the  lucid  medium  of  plate-glass)  are  four-and -twen- 
ty young  men,  in  white  aprons,  making  the  Pill.  Behind  another 
counter  are  four-and-twenty  young  men,  in  white  cravats,  making 
the  boxes.  At  the  bottom  of  the  shop  are  three  elderly  account- 
ants, posting  the  vast  financial  transactions  accruing  from  the  Pill 
in  three  enormous  ledgers.  Over  the  door  are  my  name,  portrait, 
and  autograph,  expanded  to  colossal  proportions,  and  surrounded 
in  flowing  letters,  by  the  motto  of  the  establishment,  '  Down  with 
the  Doctors !'  Even  Mrs.  Wragge  contributes  her  quota  to  this 
prodigious  enterprise.  She  is  the  celebrated  woman  whom  I  have 
cured  of  indescribable  agonies  from  every  complaint  under  the  sun, 


NO    NAME.  587 

Her  portrait  is  engraved  on  all  the  wrappers,  with  the  following 
inscription  beneath  it :  '  Before  she  took  the  Pill  you  might  have 
blown  this  patient  away  with  a  feather.  Look  at  her  now ! ! !'  Last, 
not  least,  my  dear  girl,  the  Pill  is  the  cause  of  my  finding  my  way 
to  this  house.  My  department  in  the  prodigious  Enterprise  already 
mentioned  is  to  scour  the  United  Kingdom  in  a  gig,  establishing 
Agencies  everywhere.  While  founding  one  of  those  Agencies,  I 
heard  of  a  certain  friend  of  mine,  who  had  lately  landed  in  En- 
gland, after  a  long  sea-voyage.  I  got  his  address  in  London — he 
was  a  lodger  in  this  house.  I  called  on  him  forthwith,  and  was 
stunned  by  the  news  of  your  illness.  Such,  in  brief,  is  the  history 
of  my  existing  connection  with  British  Medicine  ;  and  so  it  happens 
that  you  see  me  at  the  present  moment  sitting  in  the  present  chair, 
now  as  ever,  yours  truly,  Horatio  Wragge." 

In  these  terms  the  captain  brought  his  personal  statement  to  a 
close.  He  looked  more  and  more  attentively  at  Magdalen,  the 
nearer  he  got  to  the  conclusion.  Was  there  some  latent  impor- 
tance attaching  to  his  last  words  which  did  not  appear  on  the  face 
of  them  ?  There  was.  His  visit  to  the  sick-room  had  a  serious  ob- 
ject, and  that  object  he  had  now  approached. 

In  describing  the  circumstances  under  which  he  had  become 
acquainted  with  Magdalen's  present  position,  Captain  Wragge  had 
skirted,  with  his  customary  dexterity,  round  the  remote  boundaries 
of  truth.  Emboldened  by  the  absence  of  any  public  scandal  in 
connection  with  Noel  Vanstone's  marriage,  or  with  the  event  of  his 
death  as  announced  in  the  newspaper  obituary,  the  captain,  roam- 
ing the  eastern  circuit,  had  ventured  back  to  Aldborough  a  fort- 
night since,  to  establish  an  agency  there  for  the  sale  of  his  wonder- 
ful Pill.  No  one  had  recognized  him  but  the  landlady  of  the  hotel, 
who  at  once  insisted  on  his  entering  the  house  and  reading  Kirke's 
letter  to  her  husband.  The  same  night  Captain  Wragge  was  in 
London,  and  was  closeted  with  the  sailor  in  the  second-floor  room 
at  Aaron's  Buildings. 

The  serious  nature  of  the  situation,  the  indisputable  certainty  that 
Kirke  must  fail  in  tracing  Magdalen's  friends  unless  he  first  knew 
who  she  really  was,  had  decided  the  captain  on  disclosing  part,  at 
least,  of  the  truth.  Declining  to  enter  into  any  particulars — for  fam- 
ily reasons,  which  Magdalen  might  explain  on  her  recovery,  if  she 
pleased  —  he  astounded  Kirke  by  telling  him  that  the  friendless 
woman  whom  he  had  rescued,  and  whom  he  had  only  known  up  to 
that  moment  as  Miss  Bygrave  —  was  no  other  than  the  youngest 
daughter  of  Andrew  Vanstone.  The  disclosure,  on  Kirke's  side,  of 
his  father's  connection  with  the  young  officer  in  Canada,  had  fol- 
lowed naturally,  on  the  revelation  of  Magdalen's  real  name.     Cap 


588  NO    NAME. 

tain  Wragge  had  expressed  his  surprise,  but  had  made  no  further 
remark  at  the  time.  A  fortnight  later,  however,  when  the  patient's 
recovery  forced  the  serious  difficulty  on  the  doctor  of  meeting  the 
questions  which  Magdalen  was  sure  to  ask,  the  captain's  ingenuity 
had  come,  as  usual,  to  the  rescue. 

"  You  can't  tell  her  the  truth,"  he  said,  "  without  awakening  pain- 
ful recollections  of  her  stay  at  Aldborough,  into  which  I  am  not  at 
liberty  to  enter.  Don't  acknowledge  just  yet  that  Mr.  Kirke  only 
knew  her  as  Miss  By  grave  of  North  Shingles  when  he  found  her  in 
this  house.  Tell  her  boldly  that  he  knew  who  she  was,  and  that  he 
felt  (what  she  must  feel)  that  he  had  a  hereditary  right  to  help  and 
protect  her  as  his  father's  son.  I  am,  as  I  have  already  told  you," 
continued  the  captain,  sticking  fast  to  his  old  assertion, ;'  a  distant 
relative  of  the  Combe-Raven  family ;  and,  if  there  is  nobody  else  at 
hand  to  help  you  through  this  difficulty,  my  services  are  freely  at 
your  disposal." 

No  one  else  was  at  hand,  and  the  emergency  was  a  serious  one. 
Strangers  undertaking  the  responsibility  might  ignorantly  jar  on 
past  recollections,  which  it  would,  perhaps,  be  the  death  of  her  to 
revive  too  soon.  Near  relatives  might,  by  their  premature  appear- 
ance at  the  bedside,  produce  the  same  deplorable  result.  The  alter- 
native lay  between  irritating  and  alarming  her  by  leaving  her  in- 
quiries unanswered,  or  trusting  Captain  Wragge.  In  the  doctor's 
opinion,  the  second  risk  was  the  least  serious  risk  of  the  two — and 
the  captain  was  now  seated  at  Magdalen's  bedside  in  discharge  of 
the  trust  confided  to  him. 

Would  she  ask  the  question  which  it  had  been  the  private  object 
of  all  Captain  Wragge's  preliminary  talk  lightly  and  pleasantly  to 
provoke  ?  Yes ;  as  soon  as  his  silence  gave  her  the  opportunity,  she 
asked  it :  "  Who  was  that  friend  of  his  living  in  the  house  ?" 

"  You  ought  by  rights  to  know  him  as  well  as  I  do,"  said  the  cap- 
tain. "He  is  the  son  of  one  of  your  fathers  old  military  friends, 
when  your  father  was  quartered  with  his  regiment  in  Canada. 
Your  cheeks  mustn't  flush  up  !     If  they  do,  I  shall  go  away." 

She  was  astonished,  but  not  agitated.  Captain  Wragge  had  be- 
gun by  interesting  her  in  the  remote  past,  which  she  only  knew  by 
hearsay,  before  he  ventured  on  the  delicate  ground  of  her  own  expe- 
rience. 

In  a  moment  more  she  advanced  to  her  next  question:  "What 
was  his  name?" 

"  Kirke,"  proceeded  the  captain.  "  Did  you  never  hear  of  his  fa- 
ther, Major  Kirke,  commanding  officer  of  the  regiment  in  Canada? 
Did  you  never  hear  that  the  major  helped  your  father  through  a 
great  difficulty,  like  the  best  of  good  fellows  and  good  friends  ?" 

Yes;  she  faintly  fancied  she  had  heard  something  about  her  fa 


NO   NAME.  589 

thcr  and  an  officer  who  bad  once  been  very  good  to  him  when  he 
was  a  young  111:111.  But  she  could  not  look  back  so  long.  "Was 
Mr.  Kirke  poor  ?" 

Even  Captain  Wragge's  penetration  was  puzzled  by  that  question. 
lie  gave  the  true  answer  at  hazard.     "  No,"  he  said,  "  not  poor." 

Her  next  inquiry  showed  what  she  had  been  thinking  of.  "  If  Mr. 
Kirke  was  not  poor,  why  did  he  come  to  live  in  that  house  ?" 

"  She  has  caught  me  !"  thought  the  captain.  "  There  is  only  one 
way  out  of  it— I  must  administer  another  dose  of  truth.  Mr.  Kirke 
discovered  you  here  by  chance,"  he  proceeded  aloud,  "  very  ill,  and 
not  nicely  attended  to.  Somebody  wTas  wanted  to  take  care  of  you 
while  you  were  not  able  to  take  care  of  yourself.  Why  not  Mr. 
Kirke  ?  He  was  the  son  of  your  father's  old  friend — which  is  the 
next  thing  to  being  your  old  friend.  Who  had  a  better  claim  to 
send  for  the  right  doctor,  and  get  the  right  nurse,  when  I  was  not 
here  to  cure  you  with  my  wonderful  Pill  ?  Gently  !  gently !  you 
mustn't  take  hold  of  my  superfine  black  coat-sleeve  in  that  uncere- 
monious manner." 

He  put  her  hand  back  on  the  bed,  but  she  was  not  to  be  checked 
in  that  way.  She  persisted  in  asking  another  question.  "  How  came 
Mr.  Kirke  to  know  her  ?  She  had  never  seen  him  ;  she  had  never 
heard  of  him  in  her  life." 

"  Very  likely,"  said  Captain  Wragge.  "  But  your  never  having 
seen  Mm  is  no  reason  why  he  should  not  have  seen  you.'1'' 

"  When  did  he  see  me  ?" 

The  captain  corked  up  his  doses  of  truth  on  the  spot  without  a 
moment's  hesitation. 

"  Some  time  ago,  my  dear.     I  can't  exactly  say  when." 

"  Only  once  ?" 

Captain  Wragge  suddenly  saw  his  way  to  the  administration  of 
another  dose.     "  Yes,"  he  said,  "  only  once." 

She  reflected  a  little.  The  next  question  involved  the  simultane- 
ous expression  of  two  ideas,  and  the  next  question  cost  her  an  effort. 

"  He  only  saw  me  once,"  she  said,  "  and  he  only  saw  me  some 
time  ago.     How  came  he  to  remember  me  when  he  found  me  here  ?" 

"Aha!"  said  the  captain.  "Now  you  have  hit  the  right  nail  on 
the  head  at  last.  You  can't  possibly  be  more  surprised  at  his  re- 
membering you  than  I  am.  A  word  of  advice,  my  dear.  When 
you  are  well  enough  to  get  up  and  see  Mr.  Kirke,  try  how  that  sharp 
question  of  yours  sounds  in  his  ears,  and  insist  on  his  answering  it 
himself."  Slipping  out  of  the  dilemma  in  that  characteristically 
adroit  manner,  Captain  Wragge  got  briskly  on  his  legs  again  and 
took  up  his  hat. 

"  Wait !"  she  pleaded.     "  I  want  to  ask  you — " 

"  Not  another  word,"  said  the  captain.     "  I  have  given  you  quite 


590  NO    NAME. 

enough  to  think  of  for  one  day.  My  time  is  up,  and  my  gig  is  wait- 
ing for  me.  I  am  off,  to  scour  the  country  as  usual.  I  am  off,  to 
cultivate  the  field  of  public  indigestion  with  the  triple  plowshare 
of  aloes,  scammony,  and  gamboge."  He  stopped  and  turned  round 
at  the  door.  "  By-the-bye,  a  message  from  my  unfortunate  wife. 
If  you  will  allow  her  to  come  and  see  you  again,  Mrs.  Wragge  sol- 
emnly promises  not  to  lose  her  shoe  next  time,  /don't  believe  her. 
What  do  you  say  ?     May  she  come  ?" 

"Yes;  whenever  she  likes,"  said  Magdalen.  "If  I  ever  get  well 
again,  may  poor  Mrs.  Wragge  come  and  stay  with  me  ?" 

"  Certainly,  my  dear.  If  you  have  no  objection,  I  will  provide  her 
beforehand  with  a  few  thousand  invpressions  in  red,  blue,  and  yellow 
of  her  own  portrait  ('  You  might  have  blown  this  patient  away  with 
a  feather  before  she  took  the  Pill.  Look  at  her  now !').  She  is  sure 
to  drop  herself  about  perpetually  wherever  she  goes,  and  the  most 
gratifying  results,  in  an  advertising  point  of  view,  must  inevitably 
follow.  Don't  think  me  mercenary — I  merely  understand  the  age 
I  live  in."  He  stopped  on  his  way  out,  for  the  second  time,  and 
turned  round  once  more  at  the  door.  "  You  have  been  a  remark- 
ably good  girl,"  he  said,  "  and  you  deserve  to  be  rewarded  for  it. 
I'll  give  you  a  last  piece  of  information  before  I  go.  Have  you 
heard  any  body  inquiring  after  you,  for  the  last  clay  or  two,  outside 
your  door  ?  Ah !  I  see  you  have.  A  word  in  your  ear,  my  dear. 
That's  Mr.  Kirke."  He  tripped  away  from  the  bedside  as  briskly 
as  ever.  Magdalen  heard  him  advertising  himself  to  the  nurse  be- 
fore he  closed  the  door.  "  If  you  are  ever  asked  about  it,"  he  said. 
in  a  confidential  whisper, "  the  name  is  Wragge,  and  the  Pill  is  to 
be  had  in  neat  boxes,  price  thirteen  pence  half-penny,  government 
stamp  included.  Take  a  few  copies  of  the  portrait  of  a  female  pa- 
tient, whom  you  might  have  blown  away  with  a  feather  before  she 
took  the  Pill,  and  wThom  you  are  simply  requested  to  contemplate 
now.     Many  thanks.     GW^-moming." 

The  door  closed,  and  Magdalen  was  alone  again.  She  felt  no 
sense  of  solitude  ;  Captain  Wragge  had  left  her  with  something  new 
to  think  of.  Hour  after  hour  her  mind  dwelt  wTonderingly  on  Mr. 
Kirke,  until  the  evening  came,  and  she  heard  his  voice  again  through 
the  half-opened  door. 

"  I  am  very  grateful,"  she  said  to  him,  before  the  nurse  could  an- 
swer his  inquiries — "  very,  very  grateful  for  all  your  goodness  to  me." 

"  Try  to  get  well,"  he  replied,  kindly.  "  You  will  more  than  re- 
ward me,  if  you  try  to  get  well." 

The  next  morning  Mr.  Merrick  found  her  impatient  to  leave  her 
bed,  and  be  moved  to  the  sofa  in  the  front  room.  The  doctor  said 
he  supposed  she  wanted  a  change.     "  Yes,"  she  replied ;  "  I  want 


NO    NAME.  591 

to  see  Mr.  Kirke."  The  doctor  consented  to  move  her  on  the  next 
day,  but  he  positively  forbade  the  additional  excitement  of  seeing 
any  body  until  the  day  after.  She  attempted  a  remonstrance — Mr. 
Merrick  was  impenetrable.  She  tried,  when  he  was  gone,  to  win 
the  nurse  by  persuasion — the  nurse  was  impenetrable  too. 

On  the  next  day  they  wrapped  her  in  shawls,  and  carried  her  in 
to  the  sofa,  and  made  her  a  little  bed  on  it.  On  the  table  near  at 
hand  were  some  flowers  and  a  number  of  an  illustrated  newspaper. 
She  immediately  asked  who  had  put  them  there.  The  nurse  (fail- 
ing to  notice  a  warning  look  from  the  doctor)  said  Mr.  Kirke  had 
thought  that  she  might  like  the  flowers,  and  that  the  pictures  in  the 
paper  might  amuse  her.  After  that  reply,  her  anxiety  to  see  Mr. 
Kirke  became  too  ungovernable  to  be  trifled  with.  The  doctor  left 
the  room  at  once  to  fetch  him. 

She  looked  eagerly  at  the  opening  door.  Her  first  glance  at  him 
as  he  came  in  raised  a  doubt  in  her  mind  whether  she  now  saw  that 
tall  figure  and  that  open  sun-burned  face  for  the  first  time.  But 
she  was  too  weak  and  too  agitated  to  follow  her  recollections  as  far 
back  as  Aldborough.  She  resigned  the  attempt,  and  only  looked 
at  him.  He  stopped  at  the  foot  of  the  sofa,  and  said  a  few  cheering 
words.  She  beckoned  to  him  to  come  nearer,  and  offered  him  her 
wasted  hand.  He  tenderly  took  it  in  his,  and  sat  down  by  her. 
They  were  both  silent.  His  face  told  her  of  the  sorrow  and  the 
sympathy  which  his  silence  would  fain  have  concealed.  She  still 
held  his  hand — consciously  now — as  persistently  as  she  had  held  it 
on  the  day  when  he  found  her.  Her  eyes  closed,  after  a  vain  effort  to 
speak  to  him,  and  the  tears  rolled  slowly  over  her  wan  white  cheeks. 

The  doctor  signed  to  Kirke  to  wait  and  give  her  time.  She  re- 
covered a  little  and  looked  at  him.  "  How  kind  you  have  been  to 
me !"  she  murmured.     "  And  how  little  I  have  deserved  it !" 

"  Hush  !  hush  !"  he  said.  "  You  don't  know  what  a  happiness  it 
was  to  me  to  help  you." 

The  sound  of  his  voice  seemed  to  strengthen  her,  and  to  give  her 
courage.  She  lay  looking  at  him  with  an  eager  interest,  with  a 
gratitude  which  artlessly  ignored  all  the  conventional  restraints  that 
interpose  between  a  woman  and  a  man.  "  Where  did  you  see  me," 
she  said,  suddenly,  "  before  you  found  me  here  ?" 

Kirke  hesitated.     Mr.  Merrick  came  to  his  assistance. 

"  I  forbid  you  to  say  a  word  about  the  past  to  Mr.  Kirke,"  inter- 
posed the  doctor ;  "  and  I  forbid  Mr.  Kirke  to  say  a  word  about  it 
to  you.  You  are  beginning  a  new  life  to-day,  and  the  only  recol- 
lections I  sanction  are  recollections  five  minutes  old." 

She  looked  at  the  doctor  and  smiled.  "  I  must  ask  him  one  ques- 
tion," she  said,  and  turned  back  again  to  Kirke.  "Is  it  true  that 
you  had  only  seen  me  once  before  you  came  to  this  house  ?" 


592  NO    NAME. 

"  Quite  true  !"  He  made  the  reply  with  a  sudden  change  of  coIot 
which  she  instantly  detected.  Her  brightening  eyes  looked  at  him 
more  earnestly  than  ever,  as  she  put  her  next  question. 

"  How  came  you  to  remember  me,  after  only  seeing  me  once  ?" 
'  His  hand  unconsciously  closed  on  hers,  and  pressed  it  for  the  first 
time.  *  He  attempted  to  answer,  and  hesitated  at  the  first  word.  "  I 
have  a  good  memory,"  he  said  at  last ;  and  suddenly  looked  away 
from  her  with  a  confusion  so  strangely  unlike  his  customary  self-pos- 
session of  manner  that  the  doctor  and  the  nurse  both  noticed  it. 

Every  nerve  in  her  body  felt  that  momentary  pressure  of  his  hand, 
with  the  exquisite  susceptibility  which  accompanies  the  first  falter- 
ing advance  on  the  way  to  health.  She  looked  at  his  changing 
color,  she  listened  to  his  hesitating  words,  with  every  sensitive  per- 
ception of  her  sex  and  age  quickened  to  seize  intuitively  on  the 
truth.  In  the  moment  when  he  looked  away  from  her,  she  gently 
took  her  hand  from  him,  and  turned  her  head  aside  on  the  pillow. 
uCan  it  be?"  she  thought,  with  a  flutter  of  delicious  fear  at  her 
heart,  with  a  glow  of  delicious  confusion  burning  on  her  cheeks. 
"Gam  it  be?" 

The  doctor  made  another  sign  to  Kirke.  He  understood  it,  and 
rose  immediately.  The  momentary  discomposure  in  his  face  and 
manner  had  both  disappeared.  He  was  satisfied  in  his  own  mind 
that  he  had  successfully  kept  his  secret,  and  in  the  relief  of  feeling 
that  conviction  he  had  become  himself  again. 

"  Good-bye  till  to-morrow,"  he  said,  as  he  left  the  room. 

"  Good-bye,"  she  answered,  softly,  without  looking  at  him. 

Mr.  Merrick  took  the  chair  which  Kirke  had  resigned,  and  laid 
his  hand  on  her  pulse.  "Just  what  I  feared,"  remarked  the  doctor; 
"  too  quick  by  half." 

She  petulantly  snatched  away  her  wrist.  "  Don't !"  she  said, 
shrinking  from  him.     "  Pray  don't  touch  me  !" 

Mr.  Merrick  good-humoredly  gave  up  his  place  to  the  nurse.  "  I'll 
return  in  half  an  hour,"  he  whispered,  "  and  carry  her  back  to  bed. 
Don't  let  her  talk.  Show  her  the  pictures  in  the  newspaper,  and 
keep  her  quiet  in  that  way." 

When  the  doctor  returned,  the  nurse  reported  that  the  newspaper 
had  not  been  wanted.  The  patient's  conduct  had  been  exemplary. 
She  had  not  been  at  all  restless,  and  she  had  never  spoken  a  word. 

The  days  passed,  and  the  time  grew  longer  and  longer  which  the 
doctor  allowed  her  to  spend  in  the  front  room.  She  was  soon  able 
to  dispense  with  the  bed  on  the  sofa — she  could  be  dressed,  and 
could  sit  up,  supported  by  pillows,  in  an  arm-chair.  Her  hours  of 
emancipation  from  the  bedroom  represented  the  great  daily  event 
of  her  life.     They  were  the  hours  she  passed  in  Kirke's  society. 


NO    NAME.  593 

She  had  a  double  interest  in  him  now — her  interest  in  the  man 
whose  protecting  care  had  saved  her  reason  and  her  life;  her  inter- 
est in  the  man  whose  heart's  dearest  and  deepest  secret  she  had  sur- 
prised. Little  by  little  they  grew  as  easy  and  familiar  with  each 
other  as  old  friends;  little  by  little  she  presumed  on  all  her  priv- 
ileges, ami  wound  her  way  unsuspected  into  the  most  intimate 
knowledge  of  his  nature. 

Her  questions  were  endless.  Every  tiling  that  he  could  tell  her 
of  himself  and  his  life  she  drew  from  him  delicately  and  insensibly  : 
lie,  the  least  self-conscious  of  mankind,  became  an  egotist  in  her 
dexterous  hands.  She  found  out  his  pride  in  his  ship,  and  practiced 
on  it  without  remorse.  She  drew  him  into  talking  of  the  line  quali- 
ties of  the  vessel,  of  the  great  things  the  vessel  had  done  in  emer- 
gencies, as  he  had  never  in  his  life  talked  yet  to  any  living  creature 
on  shore.  She  found  him  out  in  private  sea-faring  anxieties  and 
unutterable  sea-faring  exultations  which  he  had  kept  a  secret  from 
his  own  mate.  She  watched  his  kindling  face  with  a  delicious  sense 
of  triumph  in  adding  fuel  to  the  fire ;  she  trapped  him  into  forget- 
ting all  considerations  of  time  and  place,  and  striking  as  hearty  a 
stroke  on  the  rickety  little  lodging-house  table,  in  the  fervor  of  his 
talk,  as  if  his  hand  had  descended  on  the  solid  bulwark  of  his  ship. 
His  confusion  at  the  discovery  of  his  own  forgetfulness  secretly  de- 
lighted her ;  she  could  have  cried  with  pleasure  when  he  penitently 
wondered  what  he  could  possibly  have  been  thinking  of. 

At  other  times  she  drew  him  from  dwelling  on  the  pleasures  of  his 
life,  and  led  him  into  talking  of  its  perils — the  perils  of  that  jealous 
mistress  the  sea,  which  had  absorbed  so  much  of  his  existence,  which 
had  kept  him  so  strangely  innocent  and  ignorant  of  the  world  on 
shore.  Twice  he  had  been  shipwrecked.  Times  innumerable  he 
and  all  with  him  had  been  threatened  with  death,  and  had  escaped 
their  doom  by  the  narrowmess  of  a  hair-breadth.  He  was  always 
unwilling  at  the  outset  to  speak  of  this  dark  and  dreadful  side  of 
his  life  :  it  was  only  by  adroitly  tempting  him,  by  laying  little  snares 
for  him  in  his  talk,  that  she  lured  him  into  telling  her  of  the  terrors 
of  the  great  deep.  She  sat  listening  to  him  with  a  breathless  inter- 
est, looking  at  him  with  a  breathless  wonder,  as  those  fearful  stories 
— made  doubly  vivid  by  the  simple  language  in  which  he  told  them 
— fell,  one  by  one,  from  his  lips.  His  noble  unconsciousness  of  his 
own  heroism — the  artless  modesty  with  which  he  described  his  own 
acts  of  dauntless  endurance  and  devoted  courage,  without  an  idea 
that  they  were  any  thing  more  than  plain  acts  of  duty  to  wdiich  he 
was  bound  by  the  vocation  that  he  followed — raised  him  to  a  place 
in  her  estimation  so  hopelessly  high  above  her  that  she  became  un- 
easy and  impatient  until  she  had  pulled  dowrn  the  idol  again  which 
she  herself  had  set  up.     It  was  on  these  occasions  that  she  most  rig- 


594  NO   NAME. 

idly  exacted  from  him  all  those  little  familiar  attentions  so  precious 
to  women  in  their  intercourse  with  men.  "  This  hand,"  she  thought, 
with  an  exquisite  delight  in  secretly  following  the  idea  while  he 
was  close  to  her — "  this  hand  that  has  rescued  the  drowning  from 
death  is  shifting  my  pillows  so  tenderly  that  I  hardly  know  when 
they  are  moved.  This  hand  that  has  seized  men  mad  with  mutiny, 
and  driven  them  back  to  their  duty  by  main  force,  is  mixing  my 
lemonade  and  peeling  my  fruit  more  delicately  and  more  neatly  than 
I  could  do  it  for  myself.  Oh,  if  I  could  be  a  man,  how  I  should  like 
to  be  such  a  man  as  this !" 

She  never  allowed  her  thoughts,  while  she  was  in  his  presence,  to 
lead  her  beyond  that  point.  It  was  only  when  the  night  had  sepa- 
rated them  that  she  ventured  to  let  her  mind  dwell  on  the  self-sac- 
rificing devotion  which  had  so  mercifully  rescued  her.  Kirke  little 
knew  how  she  thought  of  him,  in  the  secrecy  of  her  own  chamber, 
during  the  quiet  hours  that  elapsed  before  she  sank  to  sleep.  No 
suspicion  crossed  his  mind  of  the  influence  which  he  was  exerting 
over  her — of  the  new  spirit  which  he  was  breathing  into  that  new 
life,  so  sensitively  open  to  impression  in  the  first  freshness  of  its  re- 
covered sense.  "  She  has  nobody  else  to  amuse  her,  poor  thing," 
he  used  to  think,  sadly,  sitting  alone  in  his  small  second-floor  room. 
"If  a  rough  fellow  like  me  can  beguile  the  weary  hours  till  her 
friends  come  here,  she  is  heartily  welcome  to  all  that  I  can  tell  her." 

He  was  out  of  spirits  and  restless  now  whenever  he  was  by  him- 
self. Little  by  little  he  fell  into  a  habit  of  taking  long,  lonely  walks 
at  night,  when  Magdalen  thought  he  was  sleeping  up  stairs.  Once 
he  went  away  abruptly  in  the  day-time — on  business,  as  he  said. 
Something  had  passed  between  Magdalen  and  himself  the  evening 
before  which  had  led  her  into  telling  him  her  age.  "  Twenty  last 
birthday,"  he  thought.  "  Take  twenty  from  forty-one.  An  easy 
sum  in  subtraction — as  easy  a  sum  as  my  little  nephew  could  wish 
for."  He  walked  to  the  Docks,  and  looked  bitterly  at  the  shipping. 
"  I  mustn't  forget  how  a  ship  is  made,"  he  said.  "  It  won't  be  long 
before  I  am  back  at  the  old  work  again."  On  leaving  the  Docks 
he  paid  a  visit  to  a  brother  sailor — a  married  man.  In  the  course 
of  conversation  he  asked  how  much  older  his  friend  might  be  than 
his  friend's  wife.  There  was  six  years'  difference  between  them. 
"  I  suppose  that's  difference  enough  ?"  said  Kirke.  "  Yes,"  said  bis 
friend ;  "  quite  enough.  Are  you  looking  out  for  a  wife  at  last  ? 
Try  a  seasoned  woman  of  thirty-five — that's  your  mark,  Kirke,  as 
near  as  I  can  calculate." 

The  time  passed  smoothly  and  quickly — the  present  time,  in 
which  she  was  recovering  so  happily — the  present  time,  which  he 
was  beginning  to  distrust  already. 


NO    NAME.  595 

Early  one  morning  Mr.  Merrick  surprised  Kirke  by  a  visit  in  his 
little  room  on  the  second  floor. 

"  I  came  to  the  conclusion  yesterday,"  said  the  doctor,  entering 
abruptly  on  his  business,  "  that  our  patient  was  strong  enough  to 
justify  us  at  last  in  running  all  risks,  and  communicating  with  her 
friends;  and  I  have  accordingly  followed  the  clue  which  that  queer 
fellow,  Captain  Wragge,  put  into  our  hands.  You  remember  he 
advised  us  to  apply  to  Mr.  Pendril,  the  lawyer  ?  I  saw  Mr.  Pendril 
two  days  ago,  and  was  referred  by  him  —  not  overwillingly,  as  I 
thought — to  a  lady  named  Miss  Garth.  I  heard  enough  from  her 
to  satisfy  me  that  we  have  exercised  a  wise  caution  in  acting  as  we 
have  done.  It  is  a  very,  very  sad  story ;  and  I  am  bound  to  say 
that  I,  for  one,  make  great  allowances  for  the  poor  girl  down  stairs. 
Her  only  relation  in  the  world  is  her  elder  sister.  I  have  suggested 
that  the  sister  shall  write  to  her  in  the  first  instance,  and  then,  if 
the  letter  does  her  no  harm,  follow  it  personally  in  a  day  or  two.  I 
have  not  given  the  address,  by  way  of  preventing  any  visits  from 
being  paid  here  without  my  permission.  All  I  have  done  is  to  un- 
dertake to  forward  the  letter,  and  I  shall  probably  find  it  at  my 
house  when  I  get  back.  Can  you  stop  at  home  until  I  send  my 
man  with  it?  There  is  not  the  least  hope  of  my  being  able  to 
bring  it  myself.  All  you  need  do  is  to  watch  for  an  opportunity 
when  she  is  not  in  the  front  room,  and  to  put  the  letter  where  she 
can  see  it  when  she  comes  in.  The  handwriting  on  the  address 
will  break  the  news  before  she  opens  the  letter.  Say  nothing  to  her 
about  it — take  care  that  the  landlady  is  within  call — and  leave  her 
to  herself.  I  know  I  can  trust  you  to  follow  my  directions,  and  that 
is  why  I  ask  you  to  do  us  this  service.  You  look  out  of  spirits  this 
morning.  Natural  enough.  You're  used  to  plenty  of  fresh  air,  cap- 
tain, and  you're  beginning  to  pine  in  this  close  place." 

"  May  I  ask  a  question,  doctor  ?  Is  she  pining  in  this  close  place, 
too  ?     When  her  sister  comes,  will  her  sister  take  her  away  ?" 

"  Decidedly,  if  my  advice  is  followed.  She  will  be  well  enough 
to  be  moved  in  a  week  or  less.  Good-day.  You  are  certainly  out 
of  spirits,  and  your  hand  feels  feverish.  Pining  for  the  blue  water, 
captain — pining  for  the  blue  water !"  "With  that  expression  of  opin- 
ion, the  doctor  cheerfully  went  out. 

In  an  hour  the  letter  arrived.  Kirke  took  it  from  the  landlady 
reluctantly,  and  almost  roughly,  without  looking  at  it.  Having  as- 
certained that  Magdalen  was  still  engaged  at  her  toilet,  and  having 
explained  to  the  landlady  the  necessity  of  remaining  within  call,  he 
went  down  stairs  immediately,  and  put  the  letter  on  the  table  in  the 
front  room. 

Magdalen  heard  the  sound  of  the  familiar  step  on  the  floor.  "  I 
shall  soon  be  ready,"  she  called  to  him,  through  the  door. 


596  NO    NAME. 

He  made  no  reply;  he  took  his  hat,  and  went  out.  After  a  mo- 
mentary hesitation,  he  turned  his  face  eastward,  and  called  on  the 
ship-owners  who  employed  him,  at  their  office  in  Cornhill. 


CHAPTER  IH. 

Magdalen's  first  glance  round  the  empty  room  showed  her  the 
letter  on  the  table.  The  address,  as  the  doctor  had  predicced,  broke 
the  news  the  moment  she  looked  at  it. 

Not  a  word  escaped  her.  She  sat  down  by  the  table,  pale  and  si- 
lent, with  the  letter  in  her  lap.  Twice  she  attempted  to  open  it, 
and  twice  she  put  it  back  again.  The  by-gone  time  was  not  alone 
in  her  mind  as  she  looked  at  her  sister's  handwriting:  the  fear  of 
Kirke  was  there  with  it.  "My  past  life!"  she  thought.  "What 
will  he  think  of  me  when  he  knows  my  past  life  ?" 

She  made  another  effort,  and  broke  the  seal.  A  second  letter 
dropped  out  of  the  inclosure,  addressed  to  her  in  a  handwriting  with 
which  she  was  not  familiar.  She  put  the  second  letter  aside,  and 
read  the  lines  which  Norah  had  written : 

"Ventnor,  Isle  of  Wight,  August  24th. 

"  My  dearest  Magdalen,  —  When  you  read  this  letter,  try  to 
think  we  have  only  been  parted  since  yesterday ;  and  dismiss  from 
your  mind  (as  I  have  dismissed  from  mine)  the  past  and  all  that  be- 
longs to  it. 

"  I  am  strictly  forbidden  to  agitate  you,  or  to  weary  you  by  writ- 
ing a  long  letter.  Is  it  wrong  to  tell  you  that  I  am  the  happiest 
woman  living  ?     I  hope  not,  for  I  can't  keep  the  secret  to  myself. 

"  My  darling,  prepare  yourself  for  the  greatest  surprise  I  have  ever 
caused  you.  I  am  married.  It  is  only  a  week  to-day  since  I  parted 
with  my  old  name — it  is  only  a  week  since  I  have  been  the  happy 
wife  of  George  Bartram,  of  St.  Crux. 

"  There  were  difficulties  at  first  in  the  way  of  our  marriage,  some 
of  them,  I  am  afraid,  of  my  making.  Happily  for  me,  my  husband 
knew  from  the  beginning  that  I  really  loved  him  :  he  gave  me  a 
second  chance  of  telling  him  so,  after  I  had  lost  the  first,  and,  as  you 
see,  I  was  wise  enough  to  take  it.  You  ought  to  be  especially  in- 
terested, my  love,  in  this  marriage,  for  you  are  the  cause  of  it.  If  I 
had  not  gone  to  Aldborough  to  search  for  the  lost  trace  of  you — if 
George  had  not  been  brought  there  at  the  same  time  by  circum- 
stances in  which  you  were  concerned,  my  husband  and  I  might 
never  have  met.  When  we  look  back  to  our  first  impressions  of 
each  other,  we  look  back  to  you. 


NO    NAME.  597 

"I  must  keep  my  promise  not  to  weary  you;  I  must  brine;  this 
letter  (sorely  against  my  will)  to  an  end.  Patience!  patience!  I 
shall  see  you  soon.  George  and  I  are  both  coming  to  London  to 
take  you  back  with  us  to  Ventnor.  This  is  my  husband's  invitation, 
mind,  as  well  as  mine.  Don't  suppose  I  married  him,  Magdalen,  un- 
til I  had  taught  him  to  think  of  you  as  I  think — to  wish  with  my 
wishes,  and  to  hope  with  my  hopes.  I  could  say  so  much  more 
about  this,  so  much  more  about  George,  if  I  might  only  give  my 
thoughts  and  my  pen  their  own  way.  But  I  must  leave  Miss  Garth 
(at  her  own  special  request)  a  blank  space  to  fill  uj:>  on  the  last  page 
of  this  letter ;  and  I  must  only  add  one  word  more  before  I  say 
good-bye— a  word  to  warn  you  that  I  have  another  surprise  in  store, 
which  I  am  keeping  in  reserve  until  we  meet.  Don't  attempt  to 
guess  what  it  is.  You  might  guess  for  ages,  and  be  no  nearer  than 
you  are  now  to  a  discovery  of  the  truth. 

"  Your  affectionate  sister,  Norah  Bartram." 

{Added  by  Miss  Garth.) 

''  My  dear  Child, — If  I  had  ever  lost  my  old  loving  recollection 
of  you,  I  should  feel  it  in  my  heart  again  now,  when  I  know  that  it 
has  pleased  God  to  restore  you  to  us  from  the  brink  of  the  grave.  I 
add  these  lines  to  your  sister's  letter  because  I  am  not  sure  that  you 
are  quite  so  fit  yet,  as  she  thinks  you,  to  accept  her  proposal.  She 
has  not  said  a  word  of  her  husband  or  herself  which  is  not  true. 
But  Mr.  Bartram  is  a  stranger  to  you  ;  and  if  you  think  you  can  re- 
cover more  easily  and  more  pleasantly  to  yourself  under  the  wing 
of  your  old  governess  than  under  the  protection  of  your  new  broth- 
er-in-law, come  to  me  first,  and  trust  to  my  reconciling  Norah  to  the 
change  of  plans.  I  have  secured  the  refusal  of  a  little  cottage  at 
Shanklin,  near  enough  to  your  sister  to  allow  of  your  seeing  each 
other  whenever  you  like,  and  far  enough  away,  at  the  same  time,  to 
secure  you  the  privilege,  when  you  wish  it,  of  being  alone.  Send 
me  one  line  before  we  meet  to  say  Yes  or  No,  and  I  will  write  to 
Shanklin  by  the  next  post. 

"  Always  yours  affectionately,  Harriet  Garth." 

The  letter  dropped  from  Magdalen's  hand.  Thoughts  which  had 
never  risen  in  her  mind  yet  rose  in  it  now. 

Norah,  whose  courage  under  undeserved  calamity  had  been  the 
courage  of  resignation — Norah,  who  had  patiently  accepted  her  hard 
lot ;  who  from  first  to  last  had  meditated  no  vengeance  and  stooped 
to  no  deceit — Norah  had  reached  the  end  which  all  her  sister's  in- 
genuity, all  her  sister's  resolution,  and  all  her  sister's  daring  had 
failed  to  achieve.  Openly  and  honorably,  with  love  on  one  side 
and  love  on  the  other,  Norah  had  married  the  man  who  possessed 


598  NO    NAME. 

the  Combe-Raven  money — and  Magdalen's  own  scheme  to  recover 
it  had  opened  the  way  to  the  event  which  had  brought  husband 
and  wife  together. 

As  the  light  of  that  overwhelming  discovery  broke  on  her  mind, 
the  old  strife  was  renewed ;  and  Good  and  Evil  struggled  once  more 
which  should  win  her — but  with  added  forces  this  time ;  with  the 
new  spirit  that  had  been  breathed  into  her  new  life ;  with  the  nobler 
sense  that  had  grown  with  the  growth  of  her  gratitude  to  the  man 
who  had  saved  her,  fighting  on  the  better  side.  All  the  higher  im- 
pulses of  her  nature,  which  had  never,  from  first  to  last,  let  her  err 
with  impunity — which  had  tortured  her,  before  her  marriage  and 
after  it,  with  the  remorse  that  no  woman  inherently  heartless  and 
inherently  wicked  can  feel — all  the  nobler  elements  in  her  character, 
gathered  their  forces  for  the  crowning  struggle,  and  strengthened 
her  to  meet,  with  no  unworthy  shrinking,  the  revelation  that  had 
opened  on  her  view.  Clearer  and  clearer,  in  the  light  of  its  own 
immortal  life,  the  truth  rose  before  her  from  the  ashes  of  her  dead 
passions,  from  the  grave  of  her  buried  hopes.  When  she  looked  at 
the  letter  again — when  she  read  the  words  once  more  which  told 
her  that  the  recovery  of  the  lost  fortune  was  her  sister's  triumph, 
not  hers,  she  had  victoriously  trampled  down  all  little  jealousies  and 
all  mean  regrets ;  she  could  say  in  her  heart  of  hearts,  "  Norah  has 
deserved  it !" 

The  day  wore  on.  She  sat  absorbed  in  her  own  thoughts,  and 
heedless  of  the  second  letter  which  she  had  not  opened  yet,  until 
Kirke's  return. 

He  stopped  on  the  landing  outside,  and,  opening  the  door  a  little 
way  only,  asked,  without  entering  the  room,  if  she  wanted  any  thing 
that  he  could  send  her.  She  begged  him  to  come  in.  His  face  was 
worn  and  weary ;  he  looked  older  than  she  had  seen  him  look  yet. 
"  Did  you  put  my  letter  on  the  table  for  me  ?"  she  asked. 

"  Yes.     I  put  it  there  at  the  doctor's  request." 

"  I  suppose  the  doctor  told  you  it  was  from  my  sister  ?  She  is 
coming  to  see  me,  and  Miss  Garth  is  coming  to  see  me.  They  will 
thank  you  for  all  your  goodness  to  me  better  than  I  can." 

"  I  have  no  claim  on  their  thanks,"  he  answered,  sternly.  "  "What 
I  have  done  was  not  done  for  them,  but  for  you."  He  waited  a  lit- 
tle, and  looked  at  her.  His  face  would  have  betrayed  him  in  that 
look,  his  voice  would  have  betrayed  him  in  the  next  words  he 
spoke,  if  she  had  not  guessed  the  truth  already.  "When  your 
friends  come  here,"  he  resumed,  "  they  will  take  you  away,  I  sup- 
pose, to  some  better  place  than  this." 

"They  can  take  me  to  no  place,"  she  said,  gently,  "which  I  shall 
think  of  as  I  think  of  the  place  where  you  found  me.  They  can 
take  me  to  no  dearer  friend  than  the  friend  who  has  saved  my  life." 


NO    NAME.  599 

There  was  a  moment's  silenee  between  them. 

"We  have  been  very  happy  here,"  he  went  on, in  lower  and  lower 
tones.     "  You  won't  forget  me  when  we  have  said  good-bye  ?" 

She  turned  pale  as  the  words  passed  his  lips,  and,  leaving  her 
chair,  knelt  down  at  the  table,  so  as  to  look  up  into  his  face,  and  to 
force  him  to  look  into  hers. 

••  Why  do  you  talk  of  it?"  she  asked.  "  We  are  not  going  to  say 
good-bye,  at  least  not  yet." 

"  I  thought — "  he  began. 

"Y^es?" 

"  I  thought  your  friends  were  coming  here — " 

She  eagerly  interrupted  him.  "  Do  you  think  I  would  go  away 
with  any  body,"  she  said,  "even  with  the  dearest  relation  I  have  in 
the  world,  and  leave  you  here,  not  knowing  and  not  caring  whether 
I  ever  saw  you  again  ?  Oh,  you  don't  think  that  of  me  !"  she  ex- 
claimed, with  the  passionate  tears  springing  into  her  eyes — "  I'm  sure 
you  don't  think  that  of  me  !" 

"  No,"  he  said ;  "  I  never  have  thought,  I  never  can  think,  unjust- 
ly or  unworthily  of  you." 

Before  he  could  add  another  word  she  left  the  table  as  suddenly 
as  she  had  approached  it,  and  returned  to  her  chair.  He  had  un- 
consciously replied  in  terms  that  reminded  her  of  the  hard  necessity 
which  still  remained  unfulfilled — the  necessity  of  telling  him  the 
story  of  the  past.  Not  an  idea  of  concealing  that  story  from  his 
knowledge  crossed  her  mind.  "  Will  he  love  me,  when  he  knows 
the  truth,  as  he  loves  me  now  ?"  That  was  her  only  thought  as 
she  tried  to  approach  the  subject  in  his  presence  without  shrinking 
from  it. 

"  Let  us  put  my  own  feelings  out  of  the  question,"  she  said. 
"  There  is  a  reason  for  my  not  going  away,  unless  I  first  have  the  as- 
surance of  seeing  you  again.  You  have  a  claim — the  strongest  claim 
of  any  one — to  know  how  I  came  here,  unknown  to  my  friends,  and 
how  it  was  that  you  found  me  fallen  so  low." 

"  I  make  no  claim,"  he  said,  hastily.  "  I  wish  to  know  nothing 
which  it  distresses  you  to  tell  me." 

"  You  have  always  done  your  duty,"  she  rejoined,  with  a  faint 
smile.  "  Let  me  take  example  from  you,  if  I  can,  and  try  to  do 
mine." 

"  I  am  old  enough  to  be  your  father,"  he  said,  bitterly.  "  Duty 
is  more  easily  done  at  my  age  than  it  is  at  yours." 

His  age  was  so  constantly  in  his  mind  now  that  he  fancied  it 
must  be  in  her  mind  too.  She  had  never  given  it  a  thought.  The 
reference  he  had  just  made  to  it  did  not  divert  her  for  a  moment 
from  the  subject  on  which  she  was  speaking  to  him. 

"  You  don't  know  how  I  value  your  good  opinion  of  me,"  slifc 


600  NO    NAME. 

said,  struggling  resolutely  to  sustain  her  sinking  courage.  "  How 
can  1  deserve  your  kindness,  how  can  I  feel  that  I  am  worthy  of 
your  regard,  until  I  have  opened  my  heart  to  you  ?  Oh,  don't  en- 
courage me  in  my  own  miserable  weakness  !  Help  mc  to  tell  the 
truth— force  me  to  tell  it,  for  my  own  sake  if  not  for  yours !" 

He  was  deeply  moved  by  the  fervent  sincerity  of  that  appeal. 

"  You  shall  tell  it,"  he  said.  "  You  are  right — and  I  was  wrong.'1 
He  waited  a  little,  and  considered.  "Would  it  be  easier  to  you,'' 
he  asked,  with  delicate  consideration  for  her,  "  to  write  it  than  to 
tell  it  ?" 

She  caught  gratefully  at  the  suggestion.  "  Far  easier,"  she  re- 
plied. "  I  can  be  sure  of  myself — I  can  be  sure  of  hiding  nothing 
from  you,  if  I  write  it.  Don't  write  to  me  on  your  side  !"  she  add- 
ed, suddenly,  seeing  with  a  woman's  instinctive  quickness  of  pene- 
tration the  danger  of  totally  renouncing  her  personal  influence  over 
him.  "  Wait  till  we  meet,  and  tell  me  with  your  own  lips  what  you 
think." 

"Where  shall  I  tell  it  ?" 

"  Here  !"  she  said,  eagerly.  "  Here,  where  you  found  me  helpless 
— here,  where  you  have  brought  me  back  to  life,  and  where  I  have 
first  learned  to  know  you.  I  can  bear  the  hardest  words  you  say  to 
me,  if  you  will  only  say  them  in  this  room.  It  is  impossible  I  can  be 
away  longer  than  a  month ;  a  month  will  be  enough,  and  more  than 
enough.  If  I  come  back — "  She  stopped  confusedly.  "I  am  think- 
ing of  myself,"  she  said, "  when  I  ought  to  be  thinking  of  yon.  You 
have  your  own  occupations  and  your  own  friends.  Will  you  decide 
for  us  ?     Will  you  say  how  it  shall  be  ?" 

"  It  shall  be  as  you  wish.  If  you  come  back  in  a  month,  you  will 
find  me  here." 

"  Will  it  cause  you  no  sacrifice  of  your  own  comfort  and  your  own 
plans  ?" 

"  It  will  cause  me  nothing,"  he  replied,  "  but  a  journey  back  to 
the  City."  He  rose  and  took  his  hat.  "  I  must  go  there  at  once," 
he  added,  "  or  I  shall  not  be  in  time." 

"  It  is  a  promise  between  us  ?"  she  said,  and  held  out  her  hand. 

"  Yes,"  he  answered,  a  little  sadly  ;  "  it  is  a  promise." 

Slight  as  it  was,  the  shade  of  melancholy  in  his  manner  pained 
her.  Forgetting  all  other  anxieties  in  the  anxiety  to  cheer  him,  she 
gently  pressed  the  hand  he  gave  her.  "  If  that  won't  tell  him  the 
truth,"  she  thought,  "  nothing  will." 

It  failed  to  tell  him  the  truth ;  but  it  forced  a  question  on  his 
mind  which  he  had  not  ventured  to  ask  himself  before.  "  Is  it  her 
gratitude,  or  her  love,  that  is  speaking  to  me  ?"  he  wondered.  "  If 
I  was  only  a  younger  man,  I  might  almost  hope  it  was  her  love." 
That  terrible  sum  in  subtraction  which  had  first  presented  itself  on 


NO   NAME.  601 

the  day  when  she  told  him  her  age  began  to  trouble  him  again  as 
he  left  the  house.  He  took  twenty  from  forty-one  at  intervals,  all 
the  way  buck  to  the  ship-owners'  office  in  Cornhill. 

Left  by  herself,  Magdalen  approached  the  table  to  write  the  line 
of  answer  which  Miss  Garth  requested,  and  gratefully  to  accept  the 
proposal  that  had  been  made  to  her. 

The  second  letter  which  she  had  laid  aside  and  forgotten  was 
the  first  object  that  caught  her  eye  on  changing  her  place.  She 
opened  it  immediately,  and,  not  recognizing  the  handwriting,  look- 
ed at  the  signature.  To  her  unutterable  astonishment,  her  corre- 
spondent proved  to  be  no  less  a  person  than — old  Mr.  Clare  ! 

The  philosopher's  letter  dispensed  with  all  the  ordinary  forms  of 
address,  and  entered  on  the  subject  without  prefatory  phrases  of 
any  kind,  in  these  uncompromising  terms  : 

"  I  have  more  news  for  you  of  that  contemptible  cur,  my  son. 
Here  it  is  in  the  fewest  possible  words. 

"  I  always  told  you,  if  you  remember,  that  Frank  was  a  Sneak. 
The  very  first  trace  recovered  of  him,  after  his  running  away  from 
his  employers  in  China,  presents  him  in  that  character.  Where  do 
you  think  he  turns  up  next  ?  He  turns  up,  hidden  behind  a  couple 
of  flour  barrels,  on  board  an  English  vessel  bound  homeward  from 
Hong-Kong  to  London. 

"  The  name  of  the  ship  was  the  Deliverance,  and  the  commander 
was  one  Captain  Kirke.  Instead  of  acting  like  a  sensible  man, 
and  throwing  Frank  overboard,  Captain  Kirke  was  fool  enough  to 
listen  to  his  story.  He  made  the  most  of  his  misfortunes,  you  may 
be  sure.  He  was  half  starved :  he  was  an  Englishman  lost  in  a 
strange  country,  without  a  friend  to  help  him  ;  his  only  chance  of 
getting  home  was  to  sneak  into  the  hold  of  an  English  vessel — and 
he  had  sneaked  in,  accordingly,  at  Hong-Kong,  two  days  since. 
That  was  his  story.  Any  other  lout  in  Frank's  situation  would 
have  been  rope's-ended  by  any  other  captain.  Deserving  no  pity 
from  any  body,  Frank  was,  as  a  matter  of  course,  coddled  and  com- 
passionated on  the  spot.  The  captain  took  him  by  the  hand,  the 
crew  pitied  him,  and  the  passengers  patted  him  on  the  back.  He 
was  fed,  clothed,  and  presented  with  his  passage  home.  Luck 
enough  so  far,  you  will  say.  Nothing  of  the  sort ;  nothing  like 
luck  enough  for  my  despicable  son. 

"  The  ship  touched  at  the  Cape  of  Good  Hope.  Among  his  other 
acts  of  folly  Captain  Kirke  took  a  woman  passenger  on  board  at 
that  place — not  a  young  woman  by  any  means — the  elderly  widow 
of  a  rich  colonist.  Is  it  necessary  to  say  that  she  forthwith  became 
deeply  interested  in  Frank  and  his  misfortunes  ?     Is  it  necessary 


602  NO    NAME. 

to  tell  you  what  followed  ?  Look  back  at  my  son's  career,  and  you 
will  see  that  what  followed  was  all  of  a  piece  with  what  went  be- 
fore. He  didn't  deserve  your  poor  father's  interest  in  him — and  he 
got  it.  He  didn't  deserve  your  attachment — and  he  got  it.  He 
didn't  deserve  the  best  place  in  one  of  the  best  offices  in  London ; 
he  didn't  deserve  an  equally  good  chance  in  one  of  the  best  mer- 
cantile houses  in  China ;  he  didn't  deserve  food,  clothing,  pity,  and 
a  free  passage  home — and  he  got  them  all.  Last,  not  least,  he  didn't 
even  deserve  to  marry  a  woman  old  enough  to  be  his  grandmother 
— and  he  has  done  it !  Not  five  minutes  since  I  sent  his  wedding- 
cards  out  to  the  dust-hole,  and  tossed  the  letter  that  came  with 
them  into  the  fire.  The  last  piece  of  information  which  that  letter 
contains  is  that  he  and  his  wife  are  looking  out  for  a  house  and  es- 
tate to  suit  them.  Mark  my  words  !  Frank  will  get  one  of  the 
best  estates  in  England ;  a  seat  in  the  House  of  Commons  will  fol- 
low as  a  matter  of  course  ;  and  one  of  the  legislators  of  this  Ass-rid- 
den country  will  be — My  Lout  ! 

"  If  you  are  the  sensible  girl  I  have  always  taken  you  for,  you 
have  long  since  learned  to  rate  Frank  at  his  true  value,  and  the 
news  I  send  you  will  only  confirm  your  contempt  for  him.  I  wish 
your  poor  father  could  but  have  lived  to  see  this  day !  Often  as  I 
have  missed  my  old  gossip,  I  don't  know  that  I  ever  felt  the  loss  of 
him  so  keenly  as  I  felt  it  when  Frank's  wedding-cards  and  Frank's 
letter  came  to  this  house.     Your  friend,  if  you  ever  want  one, 

"  Francis  Clare,  Sen." 

With  one  momentary  disturbance  of  her  composure,  produced  by 
the  appearance  of  Kirke's  name  in  Mr.  Clare's  singular  narrative, 
Magdalen  read  the  letter  steadily  through  from  beginning  to  end. 
The  time  when  it  could  have  distressed  her  was  gone  by;  the  scales 
had  long  since  fallen  from  her  eyes.  Mr.  Clare  himself  would  have 
been  satisfied  if  he  had  seen  the  quiet  contempt  on  her  face  as  she 
laid  aside  his  letter.  The  only  serious  thought  it  cost  her  was  a 
thought  in  which  Kirke  was  concerned.  The  careless  manner  in 
which  he  had  referred  in  her  presence  to  the  passengers  on  board 
his  ship,  without  mentioning  any  of  them  by  their  names,  showed 
her  that  Frank  must  have  kept  silence  on  the  subject  of  the  engage- 
ment once  existing  between  them.  The  confession  of  that  vanished 
delusion  was  left  for  her  to  make,  as  part  of  the  story  of  the  past 
which  she  had  pledged  herself  unreservedly  to  reveal. 

She  wrote  to  Miss  Garth,  and  sent  the  letter  to  the  post  im- 
mediately. 

The  next  morning  brought  a  line  of  rejoinder.  Miss  Garth  had 
written  to  secure  the  cottage  at  Shanklin,  and  Mr.  Merrick  had  con- 
sented to  Magdalen's  removal  on  the  following  day.     Norah  would 


NO   NAME.  603 

be  the  first  to  arrive  at  the  house ;  and  Miss  Garth  would  follow, 
with  a  comfortable  carriage  to  take  the  invalid  to  the  railway. 
Every  needful  arrangement  had  been  made  for  her;  the  effort  of 
moving  was  the  one  effort  she  would  have  to  make. 

Magdalen  read  the  letter  thankfully,  but  her  thoughts  wandered 
from  it,  and  followed  Kirke  on  his  return  to  the  City.  What  was 
the  business  which  had  once  already  taken  him  there  in  the  morn- 
ing ?  And  why  had  the  promise  exchanged  between  them  obliged 
him  to  go  to  the  City  again,  for  the  second  time  in  one  day  ? 

Was  it  by  any  chance  business  relating  to  the  sea  ?  Were  his 
employers  tempting  him  to  go  back  to  his  ship  ? 


CHAPTER  IV. 

The  first  agitation  of  the  meeting  between  the  sisters  was  over; 
the  first  vivid  impressions,  half  pleasurable,  half  painful,  had  soften- 
ed a  little,  and  Norah  and  Magdalen  sat  together  hand  in  hand, 
each  rapt  in  the  silent  fullness  of  her  own  joy. 

Magdalen  was  the  first  to  speak. 

"  You  have  something  to  tell  me,  Norah  ?" 

"  I  have  a  thousand  things  to  tell  you,  my  love ;  and  you  have 
ten  thousand  things  to  tell  me. — Do  you  mean  that  second  surprise 
which  I  told  you  of  in  my  letter  ?" 

"  Yes.  I  suppose  it  must  concern  me  very  nearly,  or  you  would 
hardly  have  thought  of  mentioning  it  in  your  first  letter  ?" 

"  It  does  concern  you  very  nearly.  You  have  heard  of  George's 
house  in  Essex  ?  You  must  be  familiar,  at  least,  with  the  name  of 
St.  Crux  ? — What  is  there  to  start  at,  my  dear  ?  I  am  afraid  you  are 
hardly  strong  enough  for  any  more  surprises  just  yet?" 

"  Quite  strong  enough,  Norah.  I  have  something  to  say  to  you 
about  St.  Crux — I  have  a  surprise,  on  my  side,  for  you.'1'' 

"  Will  you  tell  it  me  now  ?" 

"  Not  now.  You  shall  know  it  when  we  are  at  the  sea-side ;  you 
shall  know  it  before  I  accept  the  kindness  which  has  invited  me  to 
your  husband's  house." 

"  What  can  it  be  ?     Why  not  tell  me  at  once  ?" 

"  You  used  often  to  set  me  the  example  of  patience,  Norah,  in  old 
times ;  will  you  set  me  the  example  now  ?" 

"  With  all  my  heart.  Shall  I  return  to  my  own  story  as  well  ? 
Yes  ?  Then  we  will  go  back  to  it  at  once.  I  was  telling  you  that 
St.  Crux  is  George's  house,  in  Essex,  the  house  he  inherited  from 
his  uncle.  Knowing  that  Miss  Garth  had  a  curiosity  to  see  the 
place,  he  left  word  (when  he  went  abroad  after  the  admiral's  destH 


604  NO   NAME. 

that  she  and  any  friends  -who  came  with  her  were  to  be  admitted, 
if  she  happened  to  find  herself  in  the  neighborhood  during  his  ab- 
sence. Miss  Garth  and  I,  and  a  large  party  of  Mr.  Tyrrel's  friends, 
found  ourselves  in  the  neighborhood  not  long  after  George's  de- 
parture. We  had  all  been  invited  to  see  the  launch  of  Mr.  Tyrrel's 
new  yacht  from  the  builder's  yard  at  Wivenhoe,  in  Essex.  When 
the  launch  was  over,  the  rest  of  the  company  returned  to  Colchester 
to  dine.  Miss  Garth  and  I  contrived  to  get  into  the  same  carriage 
together,  with  nobody  but  my  two  little  pupils  for  our  companions. 
We  gave  the  coachman  his  orders,  and  drove  round  by  St.  Crux. 
The  moment  Miss  Garth  mentioned  her  name  we  were  let  In,  and 
shown  all  over  the  house.  I  don't  know  how  to  describe  it  to  you. 
it  is  the  most  bewildering  place  I  ever  saw  in  my  life — " 

"  Don't  attempt  to  describe  it,  Norah.  Go  on  with  your  story  in- 
stead." 

"  Very  well.  My  story  takes  me  straight  into  one  of  the  rooms  at  St. 
Crux — a  room  about  as  long  as  your  street  here— so  dreary,  so  dirty, 
and  so  dreadfully  cold  that  I  shiver  at  the  bare  recollection  of  it. 
Miss  Garth  was  for  getting  out  of  it  again  as  speedily  as  possible, 
and  so  was  I.  But  the  housekeeper  declined  to  let  us  off  without 
first  looking  at  a  singular  piece  of  furniture,  the  only  piece  of  fur- 
niture in  the  comfortless  place.  She  called  it  a  tripod,  I  think. 
(There  is  nothing  to  be  alarmed  at,  Magdalen ;  I  assure  you  there  is 
nothing  to  be  alarmed  at !)  At  any  rate,  it  was  a  strange  three- 
legged  thing,  which  supported  a  great  panful  of  charcoal  ashes  at 
the  top.  It  was  considered  by  all  good  judges  (the  housekeeper 
told  us)  a  wonderful  piece  of  chasing  in  metal ;  and  she  especially 
pointed  out  the  beauty  of  some  scroll-work  running  round  the  inside 
of  the  pan,  with  Latin  mottoes  on  it,  signifying — I  forget  what.  I 
felt  not  the  slightest  interest  in  the  thing  myself,  but  I  looked  close 
at  the  scroll-work  to  satisfy  the  housekeeper.  To  confess  the  truth, 
she  was  rather  tiresome  with  her  mechanically  learned  lecture  on 
fine  metal-work  ;  and,  while  she  was  talking,  I  found  myself  idly 
stirring  the  soft  feathery  white  ashes  backward  and  forward  with 
my  hand,  pretending  to  listen,  with  my  mind  a  hundred  miles  away 
from  her.  I  don't  know  how  long  or  how  short  a  time  I  had  been 
playing  with  the  ashes,  when  my  fingers  suddenly  encountered  a 
piece  of  crumpled  paper  hidden  deep  among  them.  When  I  brought 
it  to  the  surface,  it  proved  to  be  a  letter — a  long  letter  full  of  cramp- 
ed, close  writing. — You  have  anticipated  my  story,  Magdalen,  before 
I  can  end  it !  You  know  as  well  as  I  do  that  the  letter  which  my 
idle  fingers  found  was  the  Secret  Trust.  Hold  out  your  hand,  my 
dear.  I  have  got  George's  permission  to  show  it  to  you,  and  there 
it  is !" 

She  put  the  Trust  into  her  sister's  hand.     Magdalen  took  it  from 


NO    NAME.  (305 

her  mechanically.  "You!"  she  said,  looking  at  her  sister  with  the 
remembrance  of  all  that  she  had  vainly  ventured,  of  all  that  she  had 
vainly  suffered, at  St.  Crux — "you  have  found  it!" 

"Yes,"  said  Norah,  gayly;  "  the  Trust  has  proved  no  exception  to 
the  general  perversity  of  all  lost  things.  Look  for  them,  and  they 
remain  invisible.  Leave  them  alone,  and  they  reveal  themselves! 
You  and  your  lawyer,  Magdalen,  were  both  justified  in  supposing 
that  your  interest  in  this  discovery  was  an  interest  of  no  common 
kind.  I  spare  you  all  our  consultations  after  I  had  produced  the 
crumpled  paper  from  the  ashes.  It  ended  in  George's  lawyer  being 
written  to,  and  in  George  himself  being  recalled  from  the  Continent. 
Miss  Garth  and  I  both  saw  him  immediately  on  his  return.  He  did 
what  neither  of  us  could  do — he  solved  the  mystery  of  the  Trust 
being  hidden  in  the  charcoal  ashes.  Admiral  Bartram,  you  must 
know,  was  all  his  life  subject  to  fits  of  somnambulism.  He  had  been 
found  walking  in  his  sleep  not  long  before  his  death — just  at  the 
time,  too,  when  he  was  sadly  troubled  in  his  mind  on  the  subject 
of  that  very  letter  in  your  hand.  George's  idea  is  that  he  must  have 
fancied  he  was  doing  in  his  sleep  what  he  would  have  died  rather 
than  do  in  his  waking  moments — destroying  the  Trust.  The  fire 
had  been  lit  in  the  pan  not  long  before,  and  he  no  doubt  saw  it  still 
burning  in  his  dream.  This  was  George's  explanation  of  the  strange 
position  of  the  letter  when  I  discovered  it.  The  question  of  what 
was  to  be  done  with  the  letter  itself  came  next,  and  was  no  easy 
question  for  a  woman  to  understand.  But  I  determined  to  master 
it,  and  I  did  master  it,  because  it  related  to  you." 

"  Let  me  try  to  master  it,  in  my  turn,"  said  Magdalen.  "  I  have 
a  particular  reason  for  wishing  to  know  as  much  about  this  letter  as 
you  know  yourself.  What  has  it  done  for  others,  and  what  is  it  to 
do  for  me  ?" 

"  My  dear  Magdalen,  how  strangely  you  look  at  it !  how  strange- 
ly you  talk  of  it !  Worthless  as  it  may  appear,  that  morsel  of  paper 
gives  you  a  fortune." 

"  Is  my  only  claim  to  the  fortune  the  claim  which  this  letter  gives 
.me  ?" 

"  Yes ;  the  letter  is  your  only  claim.  Shall  I  try  if  I  can  explain 
it  in  two  words  ?  Taken  by  itself,  the  letter  might,  in  the  lawyer's 
opinion,  have  been  made  a  matter  for  dispute,  though  I  am  sure 
George  would  have  sanctioned  no  proceeding  of  that  sort.  Taken, 
however,  with  the  postscript  which  Admiral  Bartram  attached  to  it 
(you  will  see  the  lines  if  you  look  under  the  signature  on  the  third 
page),  it  becomes  legally  binding,  as  well  as  morally  binding,  on  the 
admiral's  representatives.  I  have  exhausted  my  small  stock  of  legal 
words,  and  must  go  on  in  my  own  language  instead  of  in  the  law- 
yer's.    The  end  of  the  thing  was  simply  this.     All  the  money  went 


606  NO    NAME. 

back  to  Mr.  Noel  Vanstone's  estate  (another  legal  word  !  my  vocab- 
ulary is  richer  than  I  thought),  for  one  plain  reason — that  it  had 
not  been  employed  as  Mr.  Noel  Vanstone  directed.  If  Mrs.  Girdle- 
stone  had  lived,  or  if  George  had  married  me  a  few  months  earlier, 
results  would  have  been  just  the  other  way.  As  it  is,  half  the  money 
has  been  already  divided  between  Mr.  Noel  Vanstone's  next  of  kin ; 
which  means,  translated  into  plain  English,  my  husband,  and  his 
poor  bedridden  sister — who  took  the  money  formally,  one  day,  to 
satisfy  the  lawyer,  and  who  gave  it  back  again  generously,  the  next, 
to  satisfy  herself.  So  much  for  one  half  of  this  legacy.  The  other 
half,  my  dear,  is  all  yours.  How  strangely  events  happen,  Magda- 
len !  It  is  only  two  years  since  you  and  I  were  left  disinherited  or- 
phans— and  we  are  sharing  our  poor  father's  fortune  between  us, 
after  all !" 

"  Wait  a  little,  Norah.  Our  shares  come  to  us  in  very  different 
ways." 

"  Do  they  ?  Mine  comes  to  me  by  my  husband.  Yours  comes 
to  you — "  She  stopped  confusedly,  and  changed  color.  "  Forgive 
me,  my  own  love !"  she  said,  putting  Magdalen's  hand  to  her  lips. 
"  I  have  forgotten  what  I  ought  to  have  remembered.  I  have 
thoughtlessly  distressed  you !" 

"  No !"  said  Magdalen ;   "  you  have  encouraged  me." 

"  Encouraged  you  ?" 

"  You  shall  see." 

With  those  words,  she  rose  quietly  from  the  sofa,  and  walked  to 
the  open  window.  Before  Norah  could  follow  her,  she  had  torn  the 
Trust  to  pieces,  and  had  cast  the  fragments  into  the  street. 

She  came  back  to  the  sofa,  and  laid  her  head,  with  a  deep  sigh 
of  relief,  on  Norah's  bosom.  "  I  will  owe  nothing  to  my  past  life," 
she  said.  "  I  have  parted  with  it  as  I  have  parted  with  those  torn 
morsels  of  paper.  All  the  thoughts  and  all  the  hopes  belonging  to 
it  are  put  away  from  me  forever  !" 

"  Magdalen,  my  husband  will  never  allow  you  !  I  will  never  al- 
low you  myself — " 

"Hush!  hush!  What  your  husband  thinks  right,  Norah,  you 
and  I  will  think  right  too.  I  will  take  from  you  what  I  would 
never  have  taken  if  that  letter  had  given  it  to  me.  The  end  I 
dreamed  of  has  come.  Nothing  is  changed  but  the  position  I  once 
thought  we  might  hold  toward  each  other.  Better  as  it  is,  my  love 
— far,  far  better  as  it  is  !" 

So  she  made  the  last  sacrifice  of  the  old  perversity  and  the  old 
pride.     So  she  entered  on  the  new  and  nobler  life. 

A  month  had  passed.  The  autumn  sunshine  was  bright  even  in 
the  murky  streets,  and  the  clocks  in  the  neighborhood  were  just 


NO    NAME.  007 

striking  two,  as  Magdalen  returned  alone  to  the  house  in  Aaron's 
Buildings. 

"  Is  he  waiting  for  me  ?"  she  asked,  anxiously,  when  the  landlady 
let  her  in. 

He  was  waiting  in  the  front  room.  Magdalen  stole  up  the  stairs 
and  knocked  at  the  door.  He  called  to  her  carelessly  and  absently 
to  come  in,  plainly  thinking  that  it  was  only  the  servant  who  ap- 
plied for  permission  to  enter  the  room. 

"You  hardly  expected  me  so  soon?"  she  said,  speaking  on  the 
threshold,  and  pausing  there  to  enjoy  his  surprise  as  he  started  to 
his  feet  and  looked  at  her. 

The  only  traces  of  illness  still  visible  in  her  face  left  a  delicacy  in 
its  outline  which  added  refinement  to  her  beauty.  She  was  simply 
dressed  in  muslin.  Her  plain  straw  bonnet  had  no  other  ornament 
than  the  white  ribbon  with  which  it  was  sparingly  trimmed.  She 
had  never  looked  lovelier  in  her  best  days  than  she  looked  now,  as 
she  advanced  to  the  table  at  which  he  had  been  sitting,  with  a  bit- 
tie  basket  of  flowers  that  she  had  brought  with  her  from  the  coun- 
try, and  offered  him  her  hand. 

He  looked  anxious  and  careworn  when  she  saw  him  closer.  She 
interrupted  his  first  inquiries  and  congratulations  to  ask  if  he  had 
remained  in  London  since  they  had  parted — if  he  had  not  even  gone 
away  for  a  few  days  only,  to  see  his  friends  in  Suffolk  ?  No ;  he 
had  been  in  London  ever  since.  He  never  told  her  that  the  pretty 
parsonage  house  in  Suffolk  wanted  all  those  associations  with  her- 
self in  which  the  poor  four  walls  at  Aaron's  Buildings  were  so  rich. 
He  only  said  he  had  been  in  London  ever  since. 

"  I  wonder,"  she  asked,  looking  him  attentively  in  the  face,  "  if 
you  are  as  happy  to  see  me  again  as  I  am  to  see  you  ?" 

"  Perhaps  I  am  even  happier,  in  my  different  way,"  he  answered, 
with  a  smile. 

She  took  off  her  bonnet  and  scarf,  and  seated  herself  once  more  in 
her  own  arm-chair.  "  I  suppose  this  street  is  very  ugly,"  she  said ; 
"  and  I  am  sure  nobody  can  deny  that  the  house  is  very  small.  And. 
yet — and  yet  it  feels  like  coming  home  again.  Sit  there  where  you 
used  to  sit;  tell  me  about  yourself.  I  want  to  know  all  that  you 
have  done,  all  that  you  have  thought  even,  while  I  have  been  away." 
She  tried  to  resume  the  endless  succession  of  questions  by  means 
of  which  she  was  accustomed  to  lure  him  into  speaking  of  himself. 
But  she  put  them  far  less  spontaneously,  far  less  adroitly,  than 
usual.  Her  one  all-absorbing  anxiety  in  entering  that  room  was  not 
an  anxiety  to  be  trifled  with.  After  a  quarter  of  an  hour  wasted  in 
constrained  inquiries  on  one  side,  in  reluctant  replies  on  the  other, 
she  ventured  near  the  dangerous  subject  at  last. 

"Have  you  received  the  letters  I  wrote  to  you  from  the  sea- 


608  NO   NAME. 

side  ?"  she  asked,  suddenly  looking  away  from  him  for  the  first 
time. 

"  Yes,"  he  said ;  "  all." 

"  Have  you  read  them  ?" 

"  Every  one  of  them — many  times  over." 

Her  heart  beat  as  if  it  would  suffocate  her.  She  had  kept  her 
promise  bravely.  The  whole  story  of  her  life,  from  the  time  of  the 
home-wreck  at  Combe-Raven  to  the  time  when  she  had  destroyed 
the  Secret  Trust  in  her  sister's  presence,  had  been  all  laid  before 
him.  Nothing  that  she  had  done,  nothing  even  that  she  had 
thought,  had  been  concealed  from  his  knowledge.  As  he  would 
have  kept  a  pledged  engagement  with  her,  so  she  had  kept  her 
pledged  engagement  with  him.  She  had  not  faltered  in  the  resolu- 
tion to  do  this ;  and  now  she  faltered  over  the  one  decisive  question 
which  she  had  come  there  to  ask.  Strong  as  the  desire  in  her  was 
to  know  if  she  had  lost  or  won  him,  the  fear  of  knowing  was  at 
that  moment  stronger  still.  She  waited  and  trembled  ;  she  waited, 
and  said  no  more. 

"  May  I  speak  to  you  about  your  letters  ?"  he  asked.  "  May  I 
tell  you—?" 

If  she  had  looked  at  him  as  he  said  those  few  words,- she  would 
have  seen  what  he  thought  of  her  in  his  face.  She  would  have  seen, 
innocent  as  he  was  in  this  world's  knowledge,  that  he  knew  the 
priceless  value,  the  all-ennobliug  virtue,  of  a  woman  who  speaks  the 
truth.  But  she  had  no  courage  to  look  at  him — no  courage  to  raise 
her  eyes  from  her  lap. 

"  Not  just  yet,"  she  said,  faintly.  "  Not  quite  so  soon  after  we 
have  met  again." 

She  rose  hurriedly  from  her  chair,  and  walked  to  the  window, 
turned  back  again  into  the  room,  and  approached  the  table,  close  to 
where  he  was  sitting.  The  writing  materials  scattered  near  him  of- 
fered her  a  pretext  for  changing  the  subject,  and  she  seized  on  it  di- 
rectly.    "  Were  you  writing  a  letter,"  she  asked,  "  when  I  came  in  V 

"  I  was  thinking  about  it,"  he  replied.  "  It  was  not  a  letter  to 
be  written  without  thinking  first."  He  rose  as  he  answered  her  to 
gather  the  writing  materials  together  and  put  them  away. 

"  Why  should  I  interrupt  you  ?"  she  said.  "  Why  not  let  me  try 
whether  I  can't  help  you  instead  ?     Is  it  a  secret  ?" 

"  No,  not  a  secret." 

He  hesitated  as  he  answered  her.     She  instantly  guessed  the  truth. 

"  Is  it  about  your  ship  ?" 

He  little  knew  how  she  had  been  thinking  in  her  absence  from 
him  of  the  business  which  he  believed  that  he  had  concealed  fro/*1 
her.  He  little  knew  that  she  had  learned  already  to  be  jealous  ol 
his  ship. 


NO    NAME.  609 

"  Do  they  want  you  to  return  to  your  old  life  ?"  she  went  on. 
"  Do  they  want  you  to  go  back  to  the  sea  ?  Must  you  say  Yes  or 
No  at  once  ?" 

"  At  once." 

"  If  I  had  not  come  in  when  I  did,  would  you  have  said  Yes  ?" 

She  unconsciously  laid  her  hand  on  his  arm,  forgetting  all  infe- 
rior considerations  in  her  breathless  anxiety  to  hear  his  next  words. 
The  confession  of  his  love  was  within  a  hair-breadth  of  escaping 
him ;  but  he  checked  the  utterance  of  it  even  yet.  "  I  don't  care 
for  myself,"  he  thought ;  "  but  how  can  I  be  certain  of  not  distress- 
ing herV 

"  Would  you  have  said  Yes  ?"  she  repeated. 

"  I  was  doubting,"  he  answered — "  I  was  doubting  between  Yes 
and  No." 

Her  hand  tightened  on  his  arm ;  a  sudden  trembling  seized  her 
in  every  limb,  she  could  bear  it  no  longer.  All  her  heart  went  out 
to  him  in  her  next  words  : 

"Were  you  doubting  for  my  saTieV 

"  Yes,"  he  said.  "  Take  my  confession  in  return  for  yours — I  was 
doubting  for  your  sake." 

She  said  no  more ;  she  only  looked  at  him.  In  that  look  the 
truth  reached  him  at  last.  The  next  instant  she  was  folded  in  his 
arms,  and  was  shedding  delicious  tears  of  joy,  with  her  face  hidden 
on  his  bosom. 

"  Do  I  deserve  my  happiness  ?"  she  murmured,  asking  the  one 
question  at  last.  "  Oh,  I  know  how  the  poor  narrow  people  who 
have  never  felt  and  never  suffered  would  answer  me  if  I  asked  them 
what  I  ask  you.  If  they  knew  my  story,  they  would  forget  all  the 
provocation,  and  only  remember  the  offense ;  they  would  fasten  on 
my  sin,  and  pass  all  my  suffering  by.  But  you  are  not  one  of  them  ! 
Tell  me  if  you  have  any  shadow  of  a  misgiving !  Tell  me  if  you 
doubt  that  the  one  dear  object  of  all  my  life  to  come  is  to  live  wor- 
thy of  you !  I  asked  you  to  wait  and  see  me ;  I  asked  you,  if  there 
was  any  hard  truth  to  be  told,  to  tell  it  me  here  with  your  own  lips. 
Tell  it,  my  love,  my  husband  ! — tell  it  me  now  !" 

She  looked  up,  still  clinging  to  him  as  she  clung  to  the  hope  of 
her  better  life  to  come. 

"  Tell  me  the  truth  !"  she  repeated. 

"  With  my  own  lips." 

"  Yes !"  she  answered,  eagerly.  "  Say  what  you  think  of  me  with 
your  own  lips." 

He  stooped  and  kissed  her. 

THE   END. 


